UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


f 


THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

ALEXANDER  F  MORRISON 


UNIYERSAL  HISTORY. 


CREATION  OE  THE  WOELD 


BEGINNING  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY. 


BY  THE  LATE 


HON.  ALEXANDER  ERASER  TYTLER, 

LORD  WOODHOUSELEE, 
il 

SENATOR    OP    THE    COLLEGE    OP    JUSTICE,    AND     LORD    COMMISSIONER    OF 

JUSTICIARY   IN   SCOTLAND,  AND    FORMERLY   PROFESSOR   OP    CIVIL 

HISTORY,   AND    GREEK   AND    ROMAN   ANTIQUITIES,    IN 

THE    UNIVERSITY    OP   EDINBURGH. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  L 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &  CO., 

NOS.  22  A  2i  NORTH  FOURTH  ST. 
1860. 


a 


a: 

u. 
O 

C 
o 


W8'5  lA- 
V.I 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

This  work  on  Universal  History  comprehends  the  whole  course 
of  Lectures  on  that  subject  delivered  by  the  Author,  while  Pro- 
fessor of  Civil  History  and  Greek  and  Roman  Antiquities  in  the 
University  of  Edaiburgh.     The  work   entitled   Elements   of 
History,  by  the  same  author,  was,  originally,  merely  the  heads 
c^        or  outlines  of  this  course  of  lectures.     It  was*  afterwards  enlarged 
*^        so  as  to  form  a  Syllabus  to  the  general  reader  of  history  ;  and 
has  been  so  favorably  received  by  the  public  as  to  go  through 
^        numerous  editions  in  this  country,  and  also  in  America  ;    and  to 
^        have  been  adopted  as  a  manual  in  not  a  k\v  Universities. 
^  The  complete  work  is  now,  for  the  first  time,  given  to  the 

pubiiu.  The  preparation  of  it  for  the  press  was  the  last  of  the 
3  nierary  labors  of  its  distinguished  Author.  Nor  did  he  live  to 
2  complete  it ;  but  the  constant  attention  of  thirty  years,  and  its 
2        annual  revision  during  the  greater  part  of  that  period,  had  left 


little  to  its  Editor.  W.  F.  T. 

London,  January,  1834. 


428543 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK    THE    FIRST 


CHAPTER  I. 

Various  plans  of  historical  prelections — Chronological  method — Metlod  of 
treating  hi&tcry  as  subservient  onlj  to  the  science  of  politics — Plan  of  the 
present  vvoik — Division  by  epochs  rejected,  and  why — A  predominant  nation 
always  the  principal  object — Ancient  history — Greece — Collateral  objectg, 
Egypt,  Phoenicia,  &c. — Views  of  government,  science,  arts,  &c. — Rome,  its 
collateral  and  incidental  objects  of  history — Decline  of  the  empire — Gothic 
nations — Modern  history — Saracens — Ciiarlemagne — Laws,  &c.  of  that  age 
— Britain — Continental  European  kingdoms — Crusades — Russia,  Switzerland 
— Fall  of  Eastern  empire — Moors — Portuguese  discoveries — The  Reforma- 
tion— Asia — India — Revolt  of  the  Netherlands — Age  of  Henry  IV.  and  Eliza- 
beth— Revolution  and  close  of  British  history — Spain — France — Sweden — 
Age  of  Louis  XIV. — Charles  XII. — Peter  the  Great — Conclusion — Progress 
of  Science  and  Literature  in  Europe 1 

CHAPTER    II. 

Earliest  Ages  of  the  World — Early  History  of  Assyria — Of  Egypt — Invasioa 
of  the  Shepherd  Kings 15 

CHAPTER    III. 

On  the  nature  of  the  first  Governments,  and  on  the  Manners  and  Customs, 
Laws,  Arts,  and  Sciences  of  the  early  Nations.         .  .  ,19 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Of  the  Egtp'iians — Early  Civilization — Inundation  of  the  Nile — Govern- 
ment— Laws-  -Manners — Arts — Obelisks  and  Pyramids — Sciences — Philoso- 
phical Opmions — Character 34 

CHAPTER    V. 

Or  THE  PiitENiciANS  —  Alphabetic  Writing — Sanchoniatho  —  Navigation  — 
Tyro .......        4S 


C0NTEMT8. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


TiiK  CJnr.ciAM  ni5Tf>iiy  —  Eorlicst  period  of  the  History  of  Greece— The 
Titam— CVcri>p8 — Chronicle  of  I'aros — Areopagus— Deluge  of  Deucalion — 
Council  of  the  Ainphictyons — Cadmus — Introduction  of  Letters.     •         .         51 

CHAPTER    VII. 

Roflertiona  on  the  first  and  rudest  periods  of  the  Grecian  History — Extreme 
Harharistn  of  the  Aborigines — Circumstances  which  retarded  Civilization — 
Origin  of  the  Greek  Theology — Uncertainty  of  Mythological  Researches — 
Superstitious  Character  of  the  Greeks — Oracles — Games — ESecta  of  tliem 
on  the  National  Character 58 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Eorly  period  of  the  Greek  history  continued — Earliest  state  of  agriculture  in 
Greece — Erectheus  institutes  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries — Obtains  the  sove- 
reignty of  Attica — Theseus  unites  the  cities  of  Attica — This  the  age  of  the 
marvellous — End  of  that  period — E.\pedition  of  the  Argonauts — Course  of 
their  voyage — The  solstitial  and  equinoctial  points  fixed  by  Chiron — This 
the  foundation  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  chronology — Twofold  proof  on  which 
it  rests — Progiess  of  maritime  affairs  in  Greece — Stale  of  the  military  art — 
War  of  Thebes — War  of  the  Epigonoi—yiOiT  of  Troy — Ancient  system  of 
warfare — Tiie  tactic  or  arrangement  of  their  troops — Subsistence  of  the 
armies — Amis — Tlie  war  of  tiie  HcracUdtE — Change  of  government  in  Greece 
— Commencement  of  the  democracy  of  Athens — Origin  of  tiie  Greek  colonies 
— Causes  of  tlieir  rapid  advancement 67 

CHAPTER    IX. 

The  RrrrBi.TC  of  LackdjEmon  —  Origin  —  Divided  Sovereignty — Brown's 
Theory  of  llie  Spartan  Constitution  e.xamined — Reform  of  Lycurgus — Senate 
— Limitation  of  the  Kingly  Power — Regulation  of  Manners — Equal  Partition 
of  Land  among  all  the  Citizens — Iron  Money — Arts  prohibited  and  confined 
to  Slaves — Public  Tables — Education — Defects  of  the  System  of  Lycurgus 
— Its  effects  on  Manners — Tlietl  authorized — Cruelty — Idleness — Creation 
of  tlie  Ephori .  .34 

CHAPTER    X. 

FiiF.  Rrnntic  or  Atiif.xs  — Revolution  in  the  States  of  Attica  — Rega 
Government  abolished  — Perpetual  Archons  —  Draco — Solon  —  His  Institu- 
tions—Senate— Areopagus  reestaWished— Power  of  the  Popular  Assemblies 
— l,aws— Ostracism- Appeal  from  all  Courts  to  the  People — .Manners— Rev- 
enue—Grecian  History  continued,  Pisistratus,  Hippias,  and  llipparchus 


Alcmiconidtp. 


yd 


CHAPTER   XL 


Urigix  or  TiiK  Pfrha.n  Mosarchv— End  of  the  first  Assyrian  Empire— Era 
of  Nabonassar— Monarchy  of  ilie   Medes;    Dejoces,   Phraortes,   Cyaxares, 


CONTENTS.  VU 

Nobopolassar— Nabuchodonozor  IT. — Captivity  of  the  Jews — Cyrus  tlie  elder 
— Cainbyses — Darius,  son  of  Hystaspes — Conquest  of  Babylon — His  War 
against  the  Scythians — His  conquest  of  India — Government,  Customs,  and 
Manners  of  the  Persians — Education  of  their  Princes — General  Kducation 
of  the  Persian  Youth — National  Character  of  the  Pci-sians — Military  Char- 
acter— Government — Adiiiiiiistralion  of  Justice — Religion  of  the  AncienI 
Persians — Zoroaster;  Uncertainty  of  his  History — The  Second  Zoroaster — 
Translation  of  the  Zendavesla  by  Anquelil — Cosmogony  of  ihc  Zondavesta 
— Manicheism — Practical  and  Moral  parts  of  the  Persian  Religion — The 
Sadder — Change  in  the  Manners  of  the  Persians — Slate  of  Greece  at  the 
time  of  the  Persian  War.  ...  .         .  113 

BOOK    THE    SECOND. 

CHAPTER  I. 

History  of  Greece,  continued — Origin  and  cause  of  the  War  with  Persia 
— Commencement  of  hostilities — Battle  of  Marathon — Mlltiades — Aristides 
— Theiuistocles — Invasion  of  Greece  by  Xerxes — Banishment  of  Aiistides — 
Thcrmopyla; — Salamis — Plala;aand  Mycale — Disunion  of  the  Greeks — Cimon 
— Pericles — Decline  of  the  patriotic  spirit \SI 

CHAPTER    II. 

Administration  of  Pericles — Peloponnesian  War— Siege  of  Plataca — Alcibiadea 
—  Lysander — The  Thirty  Tyrants — Thrasybulus — Death  of  Socrates — Re- 
treat of  the  Ten  Thousand — ^V"ar  with  Persia  terminated  by  tlie  Peace  of 
Antalcidas.       .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .143 

CHAPTER    III. 

Repubi  ic  OF  Thebes — Pelopidas  and  Epaminondas — Battle  ot  J^euctra — of 
Mantiiica — General  Peace  and  its  consequences — Philip  of  j*[-\cedon — The 
Sacred  War — Demosthenes — Battle  of  01ia;ronea — Designs  of  Philip  against 
Persia — His  death •         .         .         .        .       161 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Alexjincer  the  Great  takes  and  destroys  Thebes — Submission  of  the  Gre- 
cian States — Ale.Tander  declared  General  of  the  Armies  of  Grcec" — Battle 
of  the  Granicus — Issus — Siege  of  Tyre — Expedition  into  Egypt— Patlle  of 
Arbela — Alexander  at  Persepolis — Expedition  to  India — Rc-turn  to  Siisa — 
Enters  Babylon,  and  dies — Division  of  his  Empire — Kingdom  of  Egypt — of 
Syria .         .      177 

CHAPTER    V. 

Flourishing  state  of  Egypt  under  the  Ptolemies — Greece  aflcr  the  death  oi 
Alexander — Achaian  league — Revolution  at  Lacedaimon — Ambitious  designs 
of  Philip  II.  of  Macedon  diaw  on  him  tlie  vengeance  of  the  Romans — Theii 
aid  solicited  by  the  jTitolians — Macedon  conquered — Greece  becomes  a  Ro- 
man province.  .  .  198 


Viii  CONTKNTS 


CHAFTKR    VI. 

Polilicnl  rrflpilion*  ariaing  from  Mio  history  of  Griccc--Ilctrospcclive  view- 
Connlilulionol  defects  in  llic  leading  republics— A  pure  democracy  is  a  chi- 
mera— All  government  essentially  of  the  nature  of  a  monarchy — Error  of 
Monl4«squie»'8  theory — Ferguson's  idea  of  a  perfect  republic — Democracy 
untavoruble  to  patriotism — Danger  of  generalizing  in  politics — A  rude  slate 
of  iocicty  favorable  to  patriotism — (ireece  a  strong  instance  of  this — CliJU^C- 
ler  of  (i*rc<;ce  alVr  the  Roman  conquest. 213 

CHAPTER    VII. 

I'hc  Greeks  not  eminent  in  the  Useful  Arts — Commerce — Superiority  in  the 
Fine  Arts— Greek  Architecture — Gothic  Architecture — Sculpture — Inferi- 
ority of  the  Moderns — Greek  religion  favorable  to  Sculpture  and  Painting — 
Greek  Painters 223 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Public  games  of  Greece — EfTects  on  character — Manners — Poetical  composition 
anterior  to  prose — Homer — Hesiod — Archilochus — Tcrpander — Sappho — 
Pindar — Anacreon — The  Greek  epigram — The  Greek  comedy,  distinguished 
into  the  old,  the  middle,  and  the  nev  Ar;stophanes — Menander — Greek 
tragedy — /Eschylus — Euripides — Sop  .jc.e — Mode  of  dramatic  representa- 
tion— The  ancient  drama  set  to  niusic  i''ie  :»Iimesand  Pantomimes — Of  the 
Greek  historians — Herodotus — Tliucydit.cs — Xenophon — Polybius — Diodo- 
rus  Siculus — Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus — Arrian — riutarcli.  .         .       237 

CHAPTER    IX. 

Gkk.ek  Piii.iosojmiv — lonio  Sect — Thiiles — Anaximander — Ana.ximenes — An- 
axagoras — Italic  Sect — Pythagoras — Empedocles,  &c.  — Eleatic  Sect — Zeno 
— Leucippus — Democritus — Heraclitus — Socrates — Cyrenaic  Sect — Aristip- 
pus  —  Cynics  —  Diogenes  —  Megaric  Sect — Plato^Peripatetics — Anstotle— 
Sceptics — Pyrrho — Stoics — Epicureans — Reflections.       .  .      260 


BOOK    THE    THIRD 


CHAPTER    I. 

Thf  Roman  History- Earliest  Periods  of  the  History  of  Rome— Etruscans- 
Foundation  of  Rome— Disputed  accounts  of— Romulus — Rape  of  the  Sabines 
—Origin  of  the  Political  Institutions  of  the  Romans — Union  \vitli  the  Sabines 
— Numa— His  Institutions— Tullrs  Hostilius— Ancus  Marlius— Tarquiniue 
Priscus.    .         .  082 

CHAPTER    II. 

ymrnj  TcLi.ii-s,  sixth  King  of  Rome— His  Political  Talents— Artful  division 
of  the  People  into  O  asses  and  Centuries— The  Census— Lustrum— Tarqui 


CONTENTS  IX 

nius  Superbus — End  of  the  Regal  government — Reflections  on  this  Period 
— Constitution  of  the  Senate — Narrow  Territory  of  tlie  State — Kxaggerated 
Accounts  of  its  Military  Force — Uncertainty  of  its  Early  History.  .       297 

CHAPTER    III. 

Interregnum — Consuls  appointed  with  sovereign  power — Conspiracy  against 
the  new  Government — Patriotism  of  Brutus — Valerian  Law — War  with  Por- 
sena — Popular  disturbances — Debts  of  the  Poor — A  Dictator  appointed — 
Impolitic  conduct  of  the  Patricians — Their  Concessions — Tribunes  of  the 
People  created — Change  in  the  Constitution — Reflections  on.  .         •       SOS 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Increase  of  the  power  of  the  Tribunes-  They  convoke  an  assembly  of  the  Peo- 
ple— Coriolanus — Disputes  on  the  Agrarian  Law — Law  of  Volero  —  and 
change  produced  by  it 319 

CHAPTER    V. 

An  Agrarian  Law  never  seriously  projected — Decemviri  propesed  to  digest  a 
Code  of  Laws  —  Cincinnatus  —  Appointment  of  Decemvirs  —  Laws  of  the 
Twelve  Tables — Tyranny  of  the  Decemvirs — Infamous  conduct  of  Appiua 
Claudius — Death  of  Virginia — Abolition  of  the  Decemvirate.  .         .      326 

CHAPTER    VL 

Law  against  intermarriage  of  Patricians  and  Plebeians  repealed — Military  Tn 
bunes  created — Creation  of  Censors — Their  high  powers  of  office — A  regular 
pay  assigned  to  the  Army  introduces  a  new  balance  into  the  Constitution- 
Consequences  of — Siege  of  Veii — Romans  begin  to  extend  their  conquests — 
Reflections  on  the  state  of  the  Republic  at  this  period — War  with  the  Gauls 
— Its  fai)ulous  aspect — New  popular  Laws — Institution  of  the  oflice  of  Prffitor 
••-of  Ciuaestor — ofiEdile — Liciniaii  law  limiting  property  in  land.   ,         .       339 

CHAPTER    VII. 

RiMAN  History  continued — War  with  the  Samnitcs — Devotion  of  Decius — 
Disgrace  of  the  Caudine  Forks — Popular  pretensions  increase — The  IMebeiana 
admitted  to  the  Priesthood — War  with  Pyrrlius,  King  of  Epirus — His  Defeat 
— Conquest  of  all  Italy  by  the  Romans — Iiic,or[)orali()n  of  the  com^uered  Na- 
tions— Manner  in  which  the  Rights  of  Citizenship  were  extended.  .       352 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

CiRTHAGK,  a  Phoenician  Colony — Early  History — Government — Wars — Early 
History  of  Sicily — Syracusan  Government — Dionysius  the  Elder — Dionj'uius 
the  Younger — Dion — Timoleon — Agathocles — Character  of  the  Carthaginians 
and  Romans  compared.     .        .  ','Cn 

CHAPTER    IX. 

First  Ptnic  War — First  Naval  Victory  of  the  Romans — Invasion  of  Africa — 
Hegulus — Termination  of  the  War — Second  Punic  War — Hannibal  passes 


conte:it8 

Ihc  Alp*— Hi«  vicloriPi  in   Italy— Hnllli;   of  CannrD— Hannibal   winters  in 

Capim Sii'jff  of  ^yiacime — dcfi-ndctl  by  A rcliiiiicdi-s— Battle  of  Zaina — and 

end  of  SiTond  Piinio  War — Di-fcat  of  I'liiiip  II.  of  iMactdon — of  Anlioclius, 
kin|;  of  Syria — ('alo  tin-  Censor — AccuHalion  of  Scipio  AfricaniiH — Mis  char- 
actrr — Scipio  Aiiaticus — War  willi  Perseus  and  reduction  of  Macedonia — 
TiiiKD  Pu.Nic  Wah,  and  destruction  ok  Caktiiaoe.  .  3G7 


BOOK  THE  FOURTH. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Sedition  of  the  nracchi — Cornelia,  mother  of  the  Gracchi — Criminal  amhition 
of  Ju^urtiin — Tlie  Romans  declare  war  against  him,  under  RIetellus  and  Ma- 
rius— Ueatii  of  Jngurtha — Invasion  of  ihe  Cimbri — Progress  of  corruption 
in  the  Republic — I.ivius  Dtusus's  projects  of  Reform — The  Social  War — Ori 
gin  of  the  civil  War — Rivalship  of  Marius  and  Sylla — War  with  Mithridates 
—  Marius  and  Cinna — Sylla  obtains  absolute  authority — His  proscriptions- 
His  salutary  Reforms — lis  resigns  the  Dictatorship — Lepidus  defeated  and 
slain — Pompey  distinguishes  hiuiself — Lucullus's  war  against  Mithridates — 
He  is  superseded  by  Pompey — Conspiracy  of  Catiline — Kxtent  of  the  design 
— Punishment  of  the  Conspirators — Catiline  is  killed  in  battle — Ambitious 
designs  of  Julius  Casar — First  triumvirate — Agrarian  Law — Caesar's  increase 
of  power — His  design  for  the  removal  of  Cicero — Cicero's  pusillanimous  con- 
duct—  He  goes  into  Exile — His  Estates  confiscated — Coesar's  Military  Ex- 
ploits in  Gaul — Pompey  procures  the  recall  of  Cicero — Death  of  Crassus,  anf* 
rivalship  of  Pompey  and  Caesar 385 

CHAPTER    II. 

Cossar  passes  the  Rubicon — Marches  to  Rome — Named  Dictator — Battle  of 
Pharsalia — Flight  and  Death  of  Pompey — Defeat  of  Pharnaces — Death  of 
Cato-^Cirsar's  Reforms  in  the  Roman  State — Reform  of  the  Calendar — Is 
created  perpetual  Dictator  with  the  title  of  Imperator — Character  of  Ctrsar — 
Is  assassinated — Artful  conduct  of  Mark  Antony — His  ambitious  views — 
Second  Triumvirate — Bloody  Proscription — Death  of  Cicero — Battle  of  Phi 
lippi,  and  End  of  the  Republic — Battle  of  Actium — Death  of  Antony  and 
Cleopatra— Octavius  (afterwards  Augustus)  sole  master  of  tlie  Roman  Em- 
pire.        : .        .      406 

CHAPTER    III. 

Un  tl»e  Genius  and  National  Character  of  the  Romans— System  of  Roman  Ed- 
ucation—Progress  of  Literature— The  Drama — Historians— Poets.  .       421 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Roman  Philosophy— Public  and  Private  Manners.  ....       437 

CHAPTER    V. 
On  the  .Vrt  of  War  among  tlie  Romans .        .       451 


CONTENTS.  XI 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Reflections  arising  from  a  view  of  the  Roman  History  during  the  Common- 
wealth.    .  .      4C3 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Fate  of  the  Roman  Republic  decided  by  the  Battle  of  Actium — Reign  of  Au- 
gustus—  Birth  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  —  Tiberius  —  Crucifixion  of 
our  Saviour — Caligula — Claudius— Nero — Galba — Olho — Viiellius — Vespa- 
sian— Titus — Domitian — Nerva — Trajan — Adrian.  ....      47? 

CHAPTER    II. 

Age  of  the  Antonines — Commodns — Pertinax — The  PrtEtorian  Guards  sell  the 
Empire  by  auction — Four  Emperors  proclaimed — Severus  marches  to  Rome 
and  disbands  the  Prcetorian  Guards — \Var  in  Britain — Severus  dies  at  York 
— Caracalla — Disorders  in  the  Empire  continue  till  the  Reign  of  Diocletian — 
Constantino — His  zeal  for  Christianity. 49*^ 

CHAPTER    III. 

Change  in  the  System  of  Policy  and  Government  introduced  by  Constantino — 
Pretorian  Prefects — Proconsuls — Counts  and  Dukes — Taxes — Free  Gifts — 
Seat  of  Empire  translated  to  Constantinople — Division  of  the  Empire — 
Julian — His  artful  Hostility  to  Christianity — Jovian — Valentinian — Irrup- 
tions of  the  Goths  Of  the  Huns — Valens — Gratian  Theodoaius — Valenti- 
viaa  thu  Second ...      511 


UNIVEESAL  HISTORY 


EOOK  THE  FIRST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Various  plans  of  historical  prelections — Chronological  method — Metho(J  of 
treating  history  as  subservient  only  to  the  science  of  politics — Plan  of  the 
present  work — Division  by  epochs  rejected,  and  why — a  piedominanl  nation 
always  the  principal  object — Ancient  history — (ireece — Collateral  objects, 
Effypt,  Phrenicia,  &c. — Views  of  government,  science,  arts,  &c. —  Rome,  ita 
collateral  and  incidental  objects  of  history — Decline  of  the  empire — (lothio 
t)ations — Modern  history — Saracens — Charlema<i^ne — Laws,  &c.  of  tliat  age 
— Britain — Continental  European  kinirdoms — Crusades — Russia.  Switzerland 
— Fall  of  Eastern  empire — Moors — Portuguese  'discoveries — Tiie  Reforma- 
tion— Asia — India — Revolt  of  the  Netherlands — Age  of  Henry  IV'.  and  Eliza- 
beth— Revolution  and  close  of  British  history — Spain — France — Sweden — 
Age  of  Louis  XIV. — Charles  XII. — Peter  the  Great — Conclusion — Progress 
of  Science  and  Literature  in  Europe. 

Ingenious  men,  wliose  department  in  the  course  of  education, 
both  in  the  foreign  univ^ersities  and  in  our  own,  was  the  science  of 
universal  history,  have  followed  different  methods  or  plans  of  hi? 
torical  prelections.  In  some  of  the  universities  of  the  Continent, 
the  Epitome  of  Turselline  has  been  used  as  a  text-book,  on  which 
the  lectures  of  the  professor  were  an  extended  commentary,  givms; 
considerable  amplitude,  and  consequently  illustration,  to  what  is 
little  more  than  a  dry,  though  a  very  perspicuous  chronicle  of 
events,  from  the  creation  of  the  world  to  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Such  were  the  lectures  of  Peter  Burman,  who  for  many 
years  sustained  a  high  reputation  as  Professor  of  History  at  Utrecin; 
and  such  were  likewise  the  prelections  of  Professor  Mackie,  in  ihe 
University  of  Edinburgh.  They  were  composed  in  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, which,  down  to  the  middle  of  the  ISlh  centi4y,  was  the 
universal  vehicle  of  academical  instruction  ;  an  institution  which, 
all  hough  attended  with  one  important  benefit,  namely,  the  support 
and  dilFusion  of  classical  learning,  has  perhaps'  been  wisely  laid 
aside  as  unfavorable  to  the  ample  and  copious  illust ration  of  a 
VOL.    I.  1 


4  UMVKKSAL    IltSTOUY.  [nOOK     • 

scienro  whir!)  cjinnol  rasily  be  given  but  in  tbc  vernacular  tongue. 
The  Igrlurcs  on  the  E|)itouie  of  Tursellinc,  wliicb  I  liave  men 
tinned,  wqrc,  tliereforo*  rts  nrJgbt  be  expected,  lilllc  more  tban  a 
dry  narration  of  facts.  '  If,  in  order  to  derive  profit  from  bistory, 
notluiiir  m*>r;rwcie  necessary  dian  tbat  tbc  memory  sbould  be  stor- 
ed uiiball  ibe  rcmaikab'L'  c'ver.is  tbat  bave  occurred  from  tbc  Cre- 
ation to  tbc  present  time,  properly  arranged  in  ibe  order  in  ubich 
tbcy  bapjicncd,  there  could  be  no  belter  book  than  the  Epitome 
of  'rurseliiiie,  or  the  more  enlarged  Rationarinm  of  Petavius. 
Btjl  books  of  this  kind,  and  illustrations  of  such  authors,  when  they 
are  nothing  more  than  amplifications  of  their  text,  have  neither  tbe 
charms  of  bistory  nor  its  utility.  As  they  contain  no  display  of 
character,  nor  any  spirit  of  reflection,  tbey  are  incaj)abl<j  of  either 
exciting  the  feelings,  animating  ibo  curiosity,  or  stimulating  tbe 
[)o\vcrs  of  the  understanding  :  and  without  these  qualities,  tbey 
want  even  tbe  power  of  impressing  tbe  memory  ;  for  where  the 
attention  is  not  vigorously  kept  awake,  either  by  tbe  excitement 
of  son)e  passion,  or  tbe  stimulus  of  a  rational  curiosity,  exercised 
in  developing  tbe  springs  and  consequences  of  events,  we  listen 
w'ith  indifference  even  to  the  most  orderly  and  perspicuous  narra- 
tion, and  no  durable  impression  is  made  upon  tbe  mind. 

Aware  of  these  obvious  consequences,  and  sensible  tbat  histori- 
cal prelections  on  a  plan  of  this  kind  were  inadequate  to  the  pur- 
pose of  conveying  useful  knowledge  or  improvement,  some  profes- 
sors, of  acknowledged  abilities,  bave  in  the  instruction  of  their 
pupils  pursued  a  method  entirely  opposite.  They  have  considered 
bistory  in  no  other  light  than  as  furnishing  documents  and  proofs 
illustrative  of  the  science  of  politics  and  tbe  law  of  nations.  In 
this  view,  laying  down  a  regular  system  of  political  science,  their 
historical  lectures  were  no  other  than  disquisitions  on  the  several 
heads  or  titles  of  public  law,  illustrated  by  examples  drawn  from 
ancient  and  modern  history. 

l^y  this  latter  method,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  much  useful 
<<nowledge  may  be  communicated  ;  and  where  the  professed  ob- 
ject is  tbe  study  of  politics,  or  tbat  instruction  which  is  commonly 
termed  diploviatic,  it  is  the  proper  plan  to  be  pursued.  But  he 
Btudy  of  bistory,  and  that  of  politics,  though  closely  allied  to  each 
other,  and  kindred  sciences,  are  still  different  branches  of  mental 
discipline  ;  the  one  preparatory  and  subservient  to  tbe  other.  The 
student  of  politics  or  public  law  is  presumed  to  bave  that  previous 
acquaintance  with  history  which  it  is  tbe  object  of  a  course  of 
histor'cal  study  to  communicate  ;  and  widiout  such  acquaintance 
his  study  of  politics  will  be  altogether  idle  and  fruitless.  A  little 
reflection  will  sufllce  to  convince  us  that.it  is  not  possible,  in  the 
most  ample  and  judicious  course  of  lectures  on  history,  to  convey 
such  a  knowledge  of  political  economy  as  may  be  communicated 
in  a  course  of  prelections  on  tbat  science  ;  for  this  plain  reason, 
that  in  lectures  on  bistory,  politics  cannot  be  treated  as  a  regular 


CH.    I.]  PLAN    OF    THIS    WORK.  3 

and  connected  system.  But  much  less  is  it  possible  in  a  course 
of  prelections  on  political  economy  to  communicate  to  the  student 
a  sufficient  knowledge  of  history  :  for  in  such  prelections,  history 
must  lose  all  connection  whatever,  and  become  nothing  else  than  a 
magazine  of  facts,  taken  at  random  from  the  annals  of  all  different 
nations,  without  regard  to  time  or  the  order  of  events,  but  selected 
merely  as  they  happen  to  furnish  a  convenient  illustration.  In 
this  way,  we  see  but  imperfectly  that  chain  which  joins  effects  to 
their  causes  ;  we  lose  all  view  of  the  gradual  progress  of  manners, 
the  advancement  of  man  from  barbarism  to  civilization,  and  thence 
to  refinement  and  corruption  ;  we  see  nothing  of  the  connection  of 
slates  and  empires,  or  the  mutual  influence  which  they  have  upon 
each  other  ;  above  all,  we  lose  entirely  the  best  benefit  of  history, 
its  utility  as  a  school  of  morals. 

As  the  two  plans  I  have  mentioned  are  in  a  manner  opposite 
extremes — the  one  possessing  nothmg  but  method,  without  any 
reflection  ;  the  other  a  great  deal  of  reflection,  but  without  method 
—  it  has  been  my  endeavor,  in  the  following  Commentaries  on 
Universal  History,  to  steer  a  middle  course,  and  by  endeavoring 
to  remedy  the  imperfection  of  either  method,  to  unite,  if  possible, 
the  advantages  of  both. 

While,  therefore,  so  much  regard  is  paid  to  the  chronological 
order  of  events  as  is  necessary  for  exhibiting  the  progress  of  man- 
kind in  society,  and  communicating  just  views  of  the  state  of  the 
world  in  all  the  different  ages  to  which  authentic  history  extends, 
I  shall,  in  the  delineation  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  and  the 
revolutions  of  states,  pay  more  attention  to  the  connection  of  sub 
ject  than  that  o(  time. 

In  this  view,  I  shall  reject  entirely  the  common  method  of 
arranging  general  history  according  to  certain  epochs  or  eras  ;  and 
thi^,  as  I  conceive,  upon  sufficient  grounds.  The  arguments  com- 
monly used  for  this  method  of  arrangement  arc,  1.  The  great  help 
t  affords  to  the  memory  for  fixing  the  chronological  dates  oi 
remarkable  events  in  the  history  of  any  particular  nation  ;  and 
2.  The  assistance  which  these  epochs  give  to  the  mind,  towards 
forming  distinct  ideas  of  all  that  is  passing  at  the  same  period  of 
time  throui:;h  all  the  different  states  or  kingdoms.  The  first  of 
these  arguments  supposes  the  epochs  to  be  taken  chiefly  from  the 
history  of  a  single  nation  ;  as  those  of  the  Bishop  of  Meatix  (M. 
Bossuet)  in  his  Discours  sur  V  Histoire  UniverscUe,  an  admirable 
work  of  its  peculiar  kind,  and  which  justly  maintains  a  great  repu- 
tation. In  this  luminous  epitome,  the  history  of  all  the  different 
states  and  kingdoms  is  arranged  according  to  some  remarkable 
events  taken,  for  the  greatest  part,  from  the  IFiMonj  of  the  Jeics. 
The  second  argument  supposes  the  epochs  taken  from  the  history 
of  diffiirent  nations,  and  to  be  such  remarkable  events  as  had  a 
general  influence  on  mankind,  or  an  effect  upon  the  state  of  society, 
over   a  considerable  portion  of  the  globe.      Such  are  the  epochs 


4  u.MVF.usAi.  iiisTonr.  [noof    i 

flssiimpfl  liv  M.  Mf.'lippan  in  liis  Tahhnu  de  7  irislnire  Univcr' 
srllr  ;  or  lliDse  of  tlie  Jlbbc  JMillol^  in  liis  Elcnuns  de  V  Ilistoirt 
(itncnile. 

With  r<'2;ai(l  to  the  fornicr  of  those  methods,  namely,  that  of  M. 
Rossiict,  there  can  he  no  doubt,  that  by  calling  the  attention  par- 
ticularly to  a  few  great  anrl  striking  events  in  the  history  of  any 
nation,  the  precise  date  of  these  great  events  may  be  very  easily  im- 
|)ressed  iipon  the  memory.  They  serve  as  great  landmarks,  and 
the  mind  easily  recollects  their  place  and  the  time  of  their  erection  ; 
hilt  this  is  nearly  all  the  benefit  we  derive  from  them.  They 
afford  no  help  towards  fixing  the  dates,  or  even  the  order  and  snc- 
ression  of  the  intermediate  events,  many  of  which  may  be  highly 
important,  and  equally  deserving  of  remembrance  as  the  epoch 
itself.  Nay,  there  is  even  a  probability  that  the  recollection  of 
those  epochs  may  tend  to  confound  the  chronological  order  of  the 
intermediate  events,  by  referring  them  all  to  one  common  era 
which  alone  is  fixed  upon  the  memory  :  But,  to  remember  the 
ordiT  and  regular  succession  of  events,  is  all  that  is  of  use  or  im- 
portance in  chronological  history.  It  is  a  matter  of  small  import- 
ance to  record  in  the  mind  the  precise  date  of  any  remarkable  fact 
as  it  stands  in  a  table  of  chronology.  If  actions  and  events  pre- 
serve in  the  mind  their  due  series  and  relation  to  each  other,  a 
critical  accuracy  with  respect  to  the  years  of  the  Julian  period  in 
which  they  happened,  or  the  precise  Olympiad,  is  mere  useless 
pedantry. 

The  history  of  the  Jews  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  as  being 
the  venerable  basis  of  the  Christain  religion.  It  is  therefore  de- 
serving of  the  most  profound  and  attentive  study.  But  the  Jews, 
ilurini:;  the  chief  periods  of  their  hi-tory,  were  a  small  and  seques- 
tered people,  whose  annals  record  only  their  connections,  or  their 
hostile  ditferences  with  the  petty  tribes  which  surrounded  them,  or 
the  nations  in  their  immediate  neighborhood.  It  was  therefore 
injudicious  in  M.  Bossuet,  whose  object  was  to  exhibit  a  view  of 
universal  history,  to  make  this  nation  the  great  and  prominent 
2;roup  in  his  painting  of  the  world,  to  which  all  the  other  parts  of 
his  extensive  picture  were  subordinate.  In  the  selection  of  many 
of  his  epochs — as  for  instance,  the  Calling  of  Abraham,  the  Pro- 
mulgation of  the  Law  by  Moses,  and  the  Building  of  Solomon's 
Temple — he  alfords  us  no  assistance  in  the  arrangement  of  events 
in  the  great  empires  of  antiquity,  with  which  the  Jews  in  those 
reinote  periods  had  no  connection. 

The  epochs  of  Mehegan  and  of  Millot,  if  considered  only  as 
sections  or  divisions  of  the  subject,  are  chosen  with  sufficient  pro- 
priety. Thus  the  Roman  history  is  divided  by  Millot  into  severa, 
epochs,  as  the  Kings — the  Consuls — the  Tribunes  of  the  People 
— the  Decemvirs — Rome  taken  by  the  Gauls — the  war  with 
Pyrrhus,  i:c.  Such  an  arrangement  is  well  adapted  to  the  history 
of  a  single  naii<in,  and  it  mav  afford  some  little  aid  to  the  recollec 


CU     l.J  PLAN    OF    THIS    WORK  6 

tion  of  intermediate  events  in  the  annals  of  that  nat.'on:  but  where 
the  object  is  a  delineation  of  general  history,  or  of  all  that  is  pass- 
ing in  the  world  at  the  same  period  of  time,  this  method  has  not 
the  same  advantage.  Thus,  for  example,  in  the  Tableau  de 
Vlllsluire  JModerne  of  Mehegan,  the  seventh  epoch  is  Christopher 
Columbus,  1492,  being  the  date  of  his  discovery  of  America, 
The  next  epoch  is  the  peace  of  Westphalia,  between  France, 
Sweden,  and  the  Empire,  in  164S.  Supposing  these  epochs  to 
be  easily  remembered,  it  may  be  asked  what  help  they  alFord 
towards  the  recollection  of  the  dates  of  any  of  the  intermediate 
events  in  this  interval  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  years,  or  of  the 
order  in  which  they  succeeded  each  other.  Yet  some  of  thes3 
were  among  tlie  most  remarkable  that  have  occurred  in  the  annals 
of  the  world:  for  instance,  the  Reformation  in  Germany  and  Eng- 
land— the  Revolt  of  the  Netherlands,  and  the  E-^tablishment  of 
the  Republic  of  the  United  Provinces — the  Edict  of  Nantes, 
giving  toleration  to  the  Protestants  in  France — the  Expulsion  of 
the  floors  from  Spain.  The  recollection  that  the  discovery  of 
America  happened  in  1492,  affords  no  help  to  the  remembrance 
of  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  nor  tends  to  fix  in  the  memory 
whether  the  expulsion  of  the  Moors  preceded  or  followed  the 
revolution  of  the  Netherlands.  The  classing  of  these  unconnected 
events  under  one  general  e|)och,  tends  only  to  a  confused  reference 
of  them  all  to  one  date,  alihou.h,  between  them,  there  was  almost 
a  century  of  difference  of  time. 

Besides,  in  every  method  of  classification,  there  ought  to  be  a 
relation  between  the  objects  classified,  which  the  mind  at  once 
perceives,  so  that  the  idea  of  the  one  naturally  leads  to  or  suggests 
that  of  the  other.  Now  such  connection  it  is  evident  there  cannot 
be  in  such  an  arrangement,  where  the  events  happening  in  a  certain 
period  of  time  over  the  whole  globe,  are  all  referred  to  one  event 
that  happened  in  the  first  year  of  that  period,  in  one  particular 
nation. 

The  division  of  Universal  History  into  epochs,  goes  upon  this 
idea,  that  a  comprehensive  picture  is  to  be  presented  to  the  view 
of  all  the  remarkable  events  and  actions  which  were  going  forward 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth  at  the  same  period  of  time.  Now,  a 
picture  of  this  kind,  if  equal  justice  is  done  to  every  part  of  it, 
would  present  a  most  confused  and  uninstructive  composition.  In 
order  to  |)reserve  the  strict  chronological  order,  many  of  the  most 
important  public  events  which  are  |)rogressive,  and  of  considerable 
duration,  must  be  interrupted,  almost  in  their  commencement,  or 
in  the  middle  of  their  progress;  and  the  attention  carried  off  to  an 
infinite  variety  of  different  objects  and  scenes,  totally  unconnected 
with  each  other.  Thus,  M.  Bossuet  makes  no  scruple  to  transport 
his  reader  in  a  single  sentence  from  Jerusalem  to  Laccd.Tinon, 
from  the  atrocities  of  .Ichii  in  exterminating  the  royal  house  of 
Judah,  and  the  criminal  usurpation  of  Aihaliah,  to  the  foundation 


(  UNI\-F.USAI.    IIISTOUr.  [dOOK 

of  the  Spart.in  rrpiiblif,  nnd  llic  politic  plans  of  Lycurgus;  snd, 
Willi  (•(jiijil  iiiipiopricty,  he  hurries  back  the  reader  in  the  next 
senicnce  to  the  coiichision  of  the  history  of  Athaiiah,  the  punish- 
ment of  h»T  criniis,  and  the  restoration  of  Joas,  king  of  Judah,  to 
the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 

Hut  what  are  the  advantages  of  this  strict  chrnnologif-nl  order, 
that  wo  nnist  sacrifice  so  much  to  it?  Order  is  iK-anliful,  but  it  is 
no  otherwise  so  than  as  subservient  to  utility;  and  a  whimsical 
order  confounds,  instead  of  elucidating.  "We  certainly  make  a  bad 
exchange,  if  we  lose  all  ideas  of  a  connected  history  of  any  single 
nation,  and  all  the  important  lessons  which  arise  from  remarking 
the  progress  of  events,  and  the  chain  which  links  them  with  their 
causes,  for  the  sake  of  a  forced  association  of  events  happening 
in  distant  nations,  which  have  no  other  connection  than  tliat  of 
time. 

I  shall  now  briefly  lay  down  that  jtlan  which  I  j)ropose  lo  follow 
in  these  Commentaries  on  Universal  History. 

When  the  world  is  viewed  at  any  period,  either  of  ancient  or  oi 
modern  history,  we  generally  observe  one  nation  or  empire  pre 
dominant,  to  whom  all  the  rest  bear,  as  it  were,  an  underpart,  and 
to  whoso  history  we  find,  in  general,  that  the  principal  events  in 
other  nations  may  be  referred  from  some  natural  connection. 

This  predominant  nation  I  propose  to  exhibit  to  view  as  the 
principal  object,  whose  history,  as  being  in  reality  the  most  im- 
portant, is  iherefoie  to  be  more  fully  delineated;  while  the  rest, 
as  subordinate,  are  brought  into  view  only  when  they  come  to 
have  an  obvious  connection  with  the  principal.  The  antecedent 
history  of  such  subordinate  nations  will  then  be  traced  in  a  short 
retrospect  of  their  OAvn  annals.  Such  collateral  views,  which 
figure  only  as  episodes,  I  shall  endeavor  so  to  regulate,  as  that  they 
shall  have  no  hurtful  effect  in  violating  the  unity  of  the  principal 
piece. 

For  the  earliest  periods  of  the  history  of  the  world,  we  have  no 
records  of  equal  authority  with  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Tl  ey 
nscend  to  a  period  antecedent  to  the  formation  of  regular  states  or 
rommuniiies,  they  are  long  prior  to  the  authentic  annals  of  the 
prolane  nations,*  and  they  are,  therefore,  our  only  lights  on  those 
distant  and  dark  ages  of  the  infancy  of  the  human  race. 


•  Mows  conduclpd  tho  Israclitrs  out  of  Egypt  1491  years  before  the  birih  of 
Christ,  according  to  the  Chronology  of  Usher.  Sanchoniatho,  supposed  the  most 
■ncirnt  of  the  profane  writers,  lived  several  years  alter  llie  Trojan  war  (b.  c. 
IIM  ;^  and  the  fragments  which  pass  under  his  name  are  of  the  most  doubtful 
authority.  They  were  compiled,  as  Philo  of  Hiblos  informs  us,  f'om  certain 
ancient  Ammoninn  records,  wliich,  amidst  a  great  mass  of  fabulous  and  allegori- 
cal matter,  contnined.  as  was  supposed,  some  historical  facts,  which  Sanchonia- 
tho  has  extracted.  Homer  lived  v  is  believi'd,  about  a  centurv  later  than 
Sanrhoniatho.  Cadmus  of  Miletui*  Uie  first  prose  historian  among  the  profane 
writers,  flourished  under  Cyr  ih   ■ibi>iii  540  years  before  Christ 


en.    I.]  PLAN    OF    THIS    WORK.  1 

Among  the  profane  nations  of  antiquity,  that  which  first  makes  a 
remarkable  figure,  and  whose  history  at  the  same  time  lias  a  claim 
to  be  regarded  as  authentic,  is  the  states  of  Greece.  They  there- 
fore demand  a  peculiar  attention,  and  it  is  of  importance  to  trace 
their  history  to  its  origin.  But  the  Greeks  were  indebted  for  the 
greatest  pail  of  their  knowledge  to  the  Egyptians  and  Phoenicians. 
Those,  therefore,  as  relative  to  the  leading  nation,  demand  a  por- 
lon  of  our  attention,  and  naturally  precede,  or  pave  the  way  to, 
.ho  history  of  the  Greeks.  For  a  similar  reason,  the  Assyrians,  a 
rival  nation,  conquered  by  the  Egyptians  at  one  time,  and  con- 
querors of  them  afterwards  in  their  turn,  (though  their  early  history 
is  extremely  dark  and  uncertain,)  require  likewise  a  share  in  our 
observation. 

The  Greeks  then  come  to  fill  up  the  whole  of  the  picture,  and 
we  endeavor  to  present  an  accurate  delineation  of  their  indepen- 
dent states,  the  singular  constitution  of  the  two  great  republics  of 
Sparta  and  Athens,  and  the  outlines  of  their  history,  down  to  the 
period  of  the  Persian  war,  commenced  by  Darius,  the  son  of 
H}staspes,  and  prosecuted  under  his  successors  Xerxes  and  Ar- 
taxerxes.  This  connection  naturally  induces  a  short  retrospect  to 
the  preceding  periods  of  the  Persian  history;  the  rise  of  that  mon- 
archy, the  nature  of  its  government,  the  manners  of  the  'people, 
and  the  singular  religion  of  the  ancient  Persians,  which  subsisted 
without  much  adulteration  for  some  thousands  of  years,  and  is  still 
kept  alive  among  a  particular  sect  at  this  day. 

The  conclusion  of  the  Persian  war  brings  us  back  to  the  internal 
history  of  the  states  of  Greece.  We  observe  the  subjection  of 
Athens  to  the  ambitious  Pericles,  and  the  seeds  sown  of  the  decline 
of  that  illustrious  republic.  The  divisions  of  Greece  engage  our 
attention;  the  war  of  Peloponnesus;  the  corruption  of  the  Spartan 
constitution  introduced  by  Lysandcr;  the  glory  of  Thebes  under 
Pelopidas  and  Ejjaininondas.  We  consider  now  the  ambitious 
schemes  of  Philip  of  Macedon,  the  renewal  of  the  war  with  Persia, 
and  the  immense  conquests  of  Alexander  the  Great.  AVe  see,  in 
fine,  the  total  corruption  of  the  Greeks;  the  extinction  of  all  pub- 
lic virtue;  the  last  feeble  remains  of  patriotism  in  the  union  of  the 
Achaean  states;  and  the  final  reduction  and  submission  of  Greece  to 
the  arms  of  the  Romans. 

The  history  of  this  illustrious  people,  the  Greeks,  furnishes  a 
most  amj)le  field  of  reflection.  The  policy  and  constitution  of  the 
difTercnt  states,  particularly  the  two  great  and  rival  repulilics  of 
Athens  and  Laceda^mon,  demand  our  attention,  as  singularly  illus- 
trative of  ancient  manners,  and  the  wonderful  effects  of  habit  and 
discipline  on  the  nature  of  man.  The  causes  which  contributed  to 
the  rise  and*  decline  of  those  commonwealths  are  pregnant  with 
political  instruction.  The  change  which  the  national  character  of 
the  Greeks  in  general  underwent,  is  a  striking  circumstance  in  the 
history  of  human  nature,  and  will  illustrate  the  influence  of  morals 


9  U.MVF.IISAI.    IIISlOllY.  [noOK   I 

on  poluical  |)io.s|)ciii) .  The  lltf.Tary  genius  of  lliis  pcojilc,  llieir 
propross  in  pliilosopliy,  llieir  eminence  in  the  fine  arts — in  ull  of 
wliicli  (|c|)nriin(iils  ilicy  became  the  models  of  imitation  and  llie 
iiistiiictcrs  of  the  ancient  world, — these  snhjects,  furnishing  much 
nialter  of  useful  speculation,  will  he  treated  in  separate  short  disqui- 
sitions at  the  conclusion  of  the  historical  detail. 

Hitherto  the  leading  object  of  attention  is  the  history  of  Greece, 
to  uhich,  as  may  he  observed,  may  be  referred,  by  a  natural  con- 
nection, llitit  of  all  the  other  nations  whose  history  is  in  those 
periods  deserving  of  our  accpiaintance. 

The  coiKpiest  of  Greece  by  the  Romans  entitles  this  latter  nation 
to  rank  as  the  principal  object  in  the  subsequent  delineation  of 
ancient  history.  AVithoiit  regard  to  the  oflence  against  chronology, 
ue  now  return  back  above  four  hundred  years,  to  observe  the 
origin  and  rise  of  this  remarkable  peoi)lc.  We  contemj)late  them 
in  their  infancy;  we  observe  the  military  character  which  they 
derived  from  their  incessant  wars  with  the  neighboring  states  of 
Italy;  the  nature  of  their  government  and  internal  policy  under 
the  kings;  the  easy  revolution  effected  by  the  substitution  of  the 
consular  for  the  regal  dignity,  without  any  substantial  change  in 
the  constitution.  We  next  remark  the  causes  of  the  subsequent 
change;  the  people  uniting  themselves  to  resist  the  tyranny  and 
oppression  of  the  patrician  order;  the  advantages  they  gain  by  the 
creation  of  the  popular  magistrates;  the  continual  encroachments 
they  make  on  the  powers  and  privileges  of  the  higher  order,  till 
they  obtain  an  equal  capacity  of  enjoying  all  the  offices  and  dignities 
of  the  commonwealth. 

We  now  view  the  gradual  extension  of  the  Roman  arms;  the 
conquest  of  all  Italy;  the  origin  of  the  wars  with  foreign  nations; 
ihe  progress  of  the  Punic  wars,  which  open  a  collateral  view  of  the 
Iiistory  of  Carthage  and  of  Sicily;  we  trace  the  success  of  the  Ro- 
man arms  in  Asia,  Macedonia,  and  Greece,  the  opulence  of  the 
republic,  from  her  conquests;  and  the  corruption  of  her  manners. 
In  fine,  we  behold  the  extinction  of  patriotism;  the  endless  dis- 
cords between  the  orders,  loosening  all  the  bands  of  public  virtue; 
the  progress  of  faction  and  inordinate  ambition,  terminating  in  the 
rivil  wars  and  ruin  of  the  connnonwealth. 

At  this  remarkable  period,  which  naturally  allows  a  pause  in  thn 
historical  detail,  I  shall  devote  some  time  to  the  examination  of 
those  |>articulars  which  are  characteristic  of  die  genius  and  national 
spirit  of  the  Romans;  their  system  of  education;  their  laws;  their 
literary  character;  their  art  of  war;  their  knowledge  in  the  arts  and 
sciences;  their  ])rivate  and  public  manners;  and  their  predominant 
tastes  and  passions.  I  shall  close  the  remarks  on  the  Roman 
history  during  the  commonwealth,  with  some  political  reflections 
naturally  arising  from  the  subject,  and  illustrated  by  examples 
drawn  both  from  that  history,  and  from  the  preceding  account  of 
the  stales  of  Greece 


CH.    I.J  PLA.V    OF    THIS    WORK.  9 

We  then  resume  the  outhnes  of  the  Roman  history  under  the 
emperors.  We  observe  the  specious  policy  under  which  tiiey 
disguise  an  absokite  authority,  till  it  is  no  longer  necessary  to  keep 
on  the  mask.  We  remark  the  decline  of  the  ambitious  character 
of  the  Romans,  and  their  easy  submission  to  the  entire  loss  of  civil 
liberty  ;  the  progress  of  corruption  ;  the  venality  of  the  imperial 
dignity  ;  the  mischievous  though  necessary  policy  of  the  emperors, 
who,  to  secure  their  own  power,  industriously  abased  the  military 
spirit  of  the  people  ;  the  effect  of  this  ruinous  policy  in  inviiiug 
the  barbarous  nations  to  attack  the  frontiers  of  those  extensive 
douiinions,  which  were  now  a  languid  and  unwieldy  body  without 
internal  vigor  ;  the  weakness  of  the  emi)ire  still  further  increased 
by  its  partition  under  Diocletian,  and  subdivision  under  his  succes- 
sors ;  the  triumph  of  Christianity,  and  the  extinction  of  paganism 
in  the  age  of  Theodosius. 

We  mark  now  the  progress  of  the  barbarian  nations,  who  attack 
the  provinces  on  every  quarter,  till  the  Western  empire  becomes 
entirely  their  prey  ;  Africa  seized  by  the  Vandals,  Spain  by  the 
Visigoths,  Gaul  by  the  Franks,  Britain  by  the  Saxons  ;  Rome  and 
Italy  itself  by  the  licrulians,  and  afterwards  by  the  Ostrogoths. 
We  shall  then  observe,  as  the  last  flashes  of  an  expiring  lamp,  a 
short  but  vigorous  exertion  from  the  East,  by  the  generals  of  Jus- 
tinian ;  the  tem[)orary  recovery  of  Italy  ;  and  its  final  reduction  by 
the  Lombards. 

At  this  period,  of  the  Hdl  of  the  Western  empire,  we  are  natu- 
rally invited  to  enter  into  some  short  inquiries  regarding  the  man- 
ners, the  genius,  the  laws,  and  government  of  the  Gothic  nations  ; 
and  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  those  northern  invaders, 
both  before  and  after  their  establishment  in  the  provi.ices  of  the 
empire. 

Thus,  Ancient  History  will  admit  of  a  perspicuous  delineation, 
by  making  our  j)rincipal  object  of  attention  the  predominant  states 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  and  incidentally  touching  on  the  most  re- 
markable parts  of  the  liistory  of  the  subordinate  nations  of  anti- 
quity, when  connected  with,  or  relative  to,  the  principal  object. 

In  the  delineation  of  Modern  History,  a  similar  plan  will  be 
pursued.  The  L'adiug  ol)jects  will  be  more  various,  and  will  more 
frequently  change  their  place  :  a  nation  at  one  time  the  principal, 
may  become  for  awhile  subordinate,  and  afterwards  reassume  its 
rank  as  principal  ;  but  uniformity  of  design  will  still  characterize 
this  moving  picture  ;  the  attention  will  always  be  directed  to  the 
history  of  a  predominant  people  ;  and  other  nations  will  be  only 
incidentally  noticed,  when  there  is  a  natural  connection  with  the 
principal  object. 

After    the  fall    of  the  Western  empire,  the  nation  which    first 
distinguishes  itself  by  its  conquests,  and  the  si)len(lor  of  its  domin 
.on,  IS  that  of  the   Saracens.     The  progress  of  the  arms  and   of 
the  religion  of  Mahomet,  the  rise  and  extent  of  the  enq)ire  of  the 
VOL.    I.  2 


10  UMVKRSAI.    IIISTOUr  [dOOK    ( 

caliphs,  nrc  singular  and  intcrcsling  objects  of  aitnnlion.  Tlic 
Franks,  tlioii^li  sotilod  in  Gaul  bf.forc  this  period,  do  not  attract 
our  notice  till  aflcrwards — wjicn  the  foundation  of  the  new  empire 
of  the  west  hy  Oharlcmaj^tie  naturally  engages  its  to  lr)ok  hack  to 
the  origin  of  their  nionarchy.  Tims  we  have  briefly  before  us,  in 
one  connected  view,  (he  progress  of  this  retnarkahle  people  from 
their  infancy  nnder  Clovis,  to  their  higest  elevation  niidc'r  Charle- 
magne ;  and  thence  to  the  reduction  and  dismemberment  of  their 
dominions  under  his  weak  j)Osterity. 

The  age  of  Charlemagne  furnishes  some  interesting  matters  of 
inqiiirv  with  regard  to  laws,  literature,  manners,  and  government  ; 
and  we  shall  endeavor  to  trace  the  origin  of  that  remarkable  poli- 
cy, the  source  (as  has  been  justly  said)  both  of  the  stability  and 
of  the  disorders  of  the  kiiigdoins  of  Europe, — the  feudal  system. 

The  collateral  objects  of  attention  during  this  period  are,  the 
still  venerable  remains  of  the  Roman  empire  in  the  East  ;  the 
beginning  of  the  conquests  and  establishments  of  the  Normans  ; 
the  foundation  and  progress  of  the  temporal  doininion  of  the  church 
of  Rome  ;  the  separation  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  churches  ;  the 
afTairs  of  Italy,  and  the  conquest  of  Spain  by  the  Saracens. 

We  now  direct  our  attention  for  the  first  time  to  the  history  of 
Britain,  postponed  to  this  period,  that  we  may  consider  it  in  one 
connected  view,  from  its  rudest  stage  to  the  end  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  government. 

As  the  history  of  our  own  country  is  of  more  importance  to  us 
than  that  of  any  other,  the  British  history,  as  often  as  it  is  resumed, 
will  be  treated  with  greater  amplitude  than  the  limits  of  our  plan 
allow  to  other  nations  ;  and  while  we  note  the  progress  of  man- 
ners, literature,  and  the  arts,  it  shall  be  our  endeavor,  without 
prejudice,  to  mark  those  circumstances  which  indicate  the  progress 
of  the  constitution,  its  successive  changes,  and  its  advancement  to 
^lat  system  of  equal  liberty  under  which  we  have  the  haj)pines3 
of  living.  We  shall  see  in  the  Saxon  IVitlenagemot  the  rude 
model  of  a  parliament  ;  and  in  the  institutions  of  the  English  Al- 
fred, we  shall  admire,  in  an  age  of  barbarism,  the  genius  of  a  great 
politician  and  legislator. 

While  the  history  of  Britain  to  the  Conquest  is  the  primary 
object  of  attention,  a  collateral  view  is  taken  of  the  state  of  the 
continental  kingdoms  of  Europe.  France,  under  the  first  sove- 
reigns of  the  Capetian  race,  presents  us  with  very  little  that  is 
worthy  of  observation.  The  Normans  carry  their  arms  into  Italy, 
and  achieve  the  conquest  of  Sicily  ;  while  the  maritinie  states  of 
Venice  and  Genoa,  rising  into  consequence,  become  the  coiiimer- 
cial  agents  of  most  of  the  European  kingdoms.  The  dissensions 
between  the  German  emperors  and  the  popes,  and  the  gradual 
increase  of  the  temporal  authority  of  the  see  of  Rome,  are  not 
•inworthy  of  a  jiarticular  attention. 

The  British  history  is  again  resumed  as  a  princiual  object  ;    and 


ClI      I  1  PLAN    OF    THIS    WORK.  II 

we  pursue  its  great  outlines  from  tlie  Norinan  conquest  to  the 
death  of  King  Jolm.  In  the  tyranny  of  William  the  Conijiieror, 
and  in  the  exorhilant  weight  of  the  crown  during  the  reigns  im- 
mediately succeeding,  we  shall  observe  the  causes  of  that  spirit  of 
union  aujong  the  people,  in  their  efforts  to  resist  it,  which  procur- 
ed for  them  those  valuable  charters,  the  foundation  of  our  civil 
liberty.  Under  the  reign  of  die  second  Henry,  we  shall  observe 
a  most  important  accession  of  territory  to  the  English  crown,  in 
the  acquisition  of  the  ancient  and  early  civilized  kingdom  of  Ire- 
land. 

At  this  period,  the  whole  of  the  nations  of  Europe,  as  if  actu- 
ated by  one  spirit,  join  in  the  Crusades,  a  series  of  fatal  and  des- 
perate enter]Miscs,  but  which  form  an  important  object  of  atten- 
tion, from  their  effects  in  the  formation  of  new  kingdoms,  new 
political  arrangements,  and  a  new  system  of  manners.  ^Ve  shall 
trace  with  some  care  those  effects  in  the  changes  of  territorial 
property  in  the  feudal  governments — in  the  immunities  acquired 
by  towns  and  boroughs,  which  had  hitherto  been  tied  down  by  a 
species  of  vassalage  to  the  nobles — and  in  the  aggrandizement  of 
the  maritime  cities.  The  moral  as  well  as  the  political  effects  of 
those  enterprises  must  be  particularly  noticed  ;  and  we  shall  find  a 
subject  of  entertaining  disquisition  in  tracing  the  origin  of  chival 
ry,  and  its  consequences  in  the  introduction  of  romantic  fiction. 

A  short  connected  sketch  of  the  European  kingdoms,  after  the 
crusades,  naturally  follows  ;  in  which  a  variety  of  interesting  sub- 
jects solicit  our  attention  : — the  rise  of  the  House  of  Austria  ;  the 
decline  of  the  feudal  government  in  France  by  the  introduction  of 
the  Tkircl  Estate  to  the  national  assemblies  ;  the  establishment  of 
the  Swiss  republics ;  the  disorders  in  the  popedom  ;  and  the  me 
morable  transactions  in  the  council  of  Constance. 

These  shortly  considered,  Britain  again  resumes  her  place  as 
the  leading  object  of  attention.  We  remark  the  progress  of  the 
English  constitution  under  Henry  III.,  when  the  deputies  of  the 
boroughs  were  first  admitted  into  parliament,  the  real  date  of  the  ori- 
gin of  the  House  of  Commons  :  the  strengthening  of  the  liberties  of 
the  people  under  Edward  I.  whose  military  enter|jris(;s,  the  conquest 
of  Wales,  and  the  temporary  reduction  of  Scotland,  lead  us,  by  an 
easy  connection,  to  the  history  of  the  latter  kingdom.  We  shall 
here  behold  the  many  noble  and  successful  struggles  made  by  that 
ancient  nation  for  her  freedom  and  independence,  against  the  power 
of  the  three  first  Edwards.  We  consider  the  claim  of  right  pre- 
ferred by  Edward  III.  to  the  crown  of  France,  equally  ill-founded, 
but  more  ably  and  gloriously  sustained  :  and  the  muliiplied  triumj)hs 
of  the  arms  of  England,  till  the  kingdom  of  France  itself  is  won  by 
Henry  V. 

We  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  East,  to  remark  an  interest 
ing  spectacle  :  the  progress  of  the  Ottoman  arms  retarded  for  a 
while  by  the  conquests  of  Tamerlane  and  Scanderbeg ;    but  pros- 


i  f.NIVKIlSAI.     IIISTOIIV.  [boo*.     I 

piiiumJ  iiiuIlt  Malioinet  tli9  Great,  to  ilie  total  extinction  of  the 
tireck  or  Consiaiiiiiio|toliian  empire.  The  manners,  laws,  and 
government  of  the  Turks,  merit  a  share  of  our  consideratitjn. 

Relurnin;;  westward,  we  sec  France  in  this  age  emancipatmg 
herself  from  the  feudal  hondage  ;  and  the  consequences  of  the 
pretensions  made  by  her  sovereigns  to  a  part  of  Italy.  These 
jiretensions,  o|)j)osed  by  Ferdinand  of  Spain,  naturally  call  our 
aitention  to  that  (juarter,  where  a  most  important  political  change 
hud  been  operated  in  the  union  of  the  sovereignties  of  Arragon 
and  Castde,  and  the  fall  of  the  Moorish  kingdom  of  Granada. 

Reiiirniiig  to  Britain,  while  England  is  embroiled  with  the  civil 
w ars  of  York  and  Lancaster,  we  pursue  the  great  outlines  of  her 
history  down  to  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  the  cotemporary 
history  of  Scotland,  during  the  reigns  of  the  five  Jameses.  At 
this  jjcriod,  jiresenting  a  short  delineation  of  the  ancient  constitu- 
tion of  the  Scottish  government,  I  shall  endeavor  to  point  out 
those  political  principles  which  regulated  the  conduct  of  the 
Scots  wiih  respect  to  their  neighbors  of  England,  and  to  foreign 
nations. 

The  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  is  a  most  important  era  in 
modern  history.  The  signal  improvement  of  navigation  by  the 
Portuguese,  who  opened  to  Europe  the  commerce  of  the  Indies — 
the  rapid  advancement  of  literature  from  the  discovery  of  the  art 
of  |)rinting — and  the  revival  of  the  fine  arts — present  a  most  ex- 
tensive field  of  pleasing  and  instructive  speculation.  We  shall 
mark  the  effect  of  the  Portuguese  discoveries  in  awakening  the 
spirit  of  enterprise,  together  with  the  industry,  of  all  the  Euro|)eiin 
nations  ;  and  shall  here  introduce  a  progressive  account  of  the 
commerce  oj  Europe  down  to  this  era,  when  it  was  vigorously  and 
extensively  promoted.  We  shall  in  like  manner  exhibit  a  view 
of  the  progress  of  European  literature  through  the  preceding  ages 
of  comparative  barbarism,  to  the  splendor  it  attained  at  this 
remarkable  period.  The  consideration  of  the  progress  of  the 
fine  arts  we  postpone  to  the  succeeding  age  of  Leo  X.,  when 
they  attained  to  their  utmost  perfection. 

After  a  short  survey  of  the  northern  states  of  Europe,  which  is 
necessary  for  preserving  the  unity  of  tl)e  picture,  the  capital  object 
of  attention  is  the  aggrandizement  of  the  House  of  Austria,  under 
Charles  V.;  intimately  connected  with  the  history  of  France  under 
Francis  I.;  and  incidentally  with  that  of  England,  under  Henry 
'NIII.:  a  period  meriting  particular  and  attentive  consideration 
from  two  events  of  the  utmost  moral  and  political  importance — 
the  reformation  of  religion  in  Germany  and  England,  and  the  dis- 
covery of  America.  On  this  period  is  likewise  thrown  an  addi- 
Uonal  lustre  from  »!ie  splendor  of  the  fine  arts  in  Italy. 

•After  bestowing  on  dicse  varied  and  interesting  subjects  the 
attention  whirh  thoy  merit,  the  state  of  Asia,  which,  from  the 
period  of  ancient  history,  had   attracted  occasionally  only  a  slight 


CH.  I.]  Pr.AX    OF    THIS     WORK.  13 

degree  of  notice,  becomes  for  awhile  a  jjriiicipal  object  of  atten- 
tion. The  empire  of  India,  hij^hly  iinportanl  in  modern  times,  the 
singnlarity  of  its  political  arrangements  and  national  character,  which 
have  suflbred  no  change  since  the  age  of  Alexander;  the  political 
and  moral  history  of  the  Persians;  the  revolutions  operated  on  that 
immense  continent  by  the  Tartar  successors  of  Gengis-Khan,  are 
all  worthy  of  a  jiarticular  share  of  our  consideration.  Tiie  estab- 
lishment of  the  Tartar  pr  nces  on  the  throne  of  China  calls  our 
attention  to  that  extraordinary  monarchy,  which,  till  this  period, 
was  almost  unknown  to  tin  nations  of  Europe.  We  shall  here 
examine  at  some  length  the  ground  of  those  opinions  which  it  has 
of  late  become  customary  to  entertain,  with  regard  to  the  prodigious 
antiquity  of  this  people;  their  wonderful  attainments  in  the  arts  and 
sciences;  their  alleged  early  acquaintance  with  the  chief  modern 
discoveries  of  the  Europeans;  and  the  boasted  excellence  of  their 
laws,  their  government,  and  political  economy. 

Returning  to  Europe,  the  object  which,  in  the  close  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  first  demands  our  notice,  is  the  reign  of  Philip  II 
of  Spain,  distinguished  by  the  revolt  of  the  Netherlands,  and  the 
establishment  of  the  republic   of  Holland.     The  constitution  and 
government  of  the  United  Provinces  merit  here  a  brief  delineation. 

France  now  takes  her  turn,  and  holds  the  })rincij)al  place  in  the 
picture  during  the  turbulent  and  distracted  reign  of  Francis  II., 
Charles  IX.,  and  Henry  III.,  till  we  witness  her  happiness,  tran- 
quillity, and  splendor  under  the  great  Henry  IV. 

The  transition  thence  is  easy  to  the  era  of  England's  grandeur 
and  prosperity  under  his  cotemporary  Elizabeth.  The  aiTairs  of 
Scotland,  loo  much  connected  at  this  period  with  those  of  the 
sister  country,  call  our  attention  to  the  interesting  reign  of  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  and  the  progress  of  the  Reformation  in  that  king- 
dom. Hence  we  pursue,  without  interruption,  the  outlines  of  the 
English  history  during  the  reigns  of  James  I.,  of  Charles  I. — dur- 
ing the  Commonwealth — and  the  subsequent  reigns  of  Charles  II. 
and  .lames  II. — to  the  important  period  of  the  Revolution. 

Here,  after  a  connected  sketch  of  the  progress  of  the  English 
constitution,  and  a  particular  examination  of  its  nature  at  this  great 
era,  when  it  became  fixed  and  determined,  we  close  our  delineation 
of  the  British  History. 

But  the  afliiirs  of  the  continent  of  Europe,  at  this  time  in  a  most 
active  and  progressive  state,  admit  not  of  the  same  termination. 
We  look  back  to  France,  which,  under  the  splendid  and  politic 
administration  of  Rirhelieu,  yet  embroiled  with  faction  and  civil 
war,  presents  a  striking  object  of  attention.  We  remark  the  de- 
clension of  the  power  of  Spain  under  Philip  III.  and  Philip  IV., 
and  Portugal  in  the  latter  reign  shaking  ofi'  its  yoke,  and  establishing 
an  independent  monarchy.  We  see  the  Austrian  power  attacked  by 
the  Swedes  under  Gu^tavns  Adolplius,  declining  under  Ferdinand 
II.  and  III.,  and  humiliated  by  the  peace  of  Westphalia,  in  which 


14  U.NIVRR8AI.     IIISTOJ.V.  [dOOK   1 

tlio  FiriK  |j  anil  Swedes  gave  laws  lo  the  crupiic;  a  treaty,  liow- 
cvcr,  s.»luiary  in  ilie  main,  as  seltliiig  llic  ruinous  quarrels  between 
her  roiitendinj;  princes. 

We  see  France,  in  the  minority  of  Louis  XIV.,  harassed  with 
tne  disorders  of  liic  Fronde,  originating  in  the  unpo|)uIar  adininis- 
iraiion  of  Mazarin.  After  his  death,  we  remark  the  genius  of 
Louis  di:;|)I:iying  itself  in  a  variety  of  splendid  enterprises;  his 
views  sceoniied  hy  tlie  abilities  of  his  ministers  and  generals;  while 
the  excellent  order  of  the  finances  enables  him  easily  to  execute 
the  most  important  designs.  The  opening  to  the  succession  of  the 
Spanish  crown,  while  it  increases  for  awhile  the  glory  of  his  arms, 
leads  finally  to  the  mortifying  reverse  of  his  fortune;  and  we  behold 
the  latter  years  of  this  memorable  reign  as  unfortunate,  as  the  former 
had  been  marked  with  splendor  and  success. 

Meantime,  two  rival  powers  of  high  celebrity  call  our  attention 
to  a  variety  of  interesting  scenes  in  the  North  of  Europe.  Russia, 
till  now  in  absolute  barbarism,  becomes  at  once,  by  the  abilities  of 
a  single  man,  a  powerful  and  polished  empire.  Sweden,  under  the 
minority  of  its  prince,  ready  to  be  torn  in  pieces  by  the  powers  of 
Russia,  Denmark,  and  Poland,  becomes,  in  a  single  campaign,  the 
terror  of  the  surrounding  kingdoms.  We  see  this  prince,  a  second 
Alexander,  in  a  career  as  short  and  as  impetuous,  carry  those  he- 
roic virtues  which  he  possessed  to  an  extreme  as  dangerous  as  their 
opposite  vices. 

At  this  period  we  close  our  delineation  of  modern  history,  with  a 
view  of  Lfie  progress  of  the  sciences,  and  of  the  state  of  literature  in 
Europe,  during  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries. 

Such  is  the  plan  to  be  pursued  in  the  following  Commentaries. 
Of  the  merits  or  defects  of  the  arrangement,  those  who  possess  an 
extensive  knowledge  of  history,  and  who  have  prosecuted  that 
study  to  its  best  purposes, — instruction  in  political  and  moral 
science, — are  best  fitted  to  form  a  judgment.  To  the  general 
reader,  I  trust  it  w  ill  at  least  be  found  to  possess  the  qualities  of 
simplicity  and  perspicuity. 

^^'ith  regard  to  chronology,  it  is  necessary  to  remark  that; 
without  crr.ering  into  any  discussion  of  the  merits  of  the  difTerent 
system-i,  I  have  chosen  to  follow  the  chronology  of  Archbishop 
Usher,  or  that  which  is  founded  on  the  Hebrew  text  of  the 
Sacred  Writings;  and  this  for  the  sole  reason,  that  it  has  beei 
most  generally  adopted  by  the  writers  both  of  our  own  and  c 
foreign  nations. 


-en     II  EARLIEST    AGES.  15 


CHAPTER   II. 


Earliest  Ages  of  the  World — Early  History  of  Assyria — Of  Egypt  -Invasion  i>l 
tlie  Shepherd  Kings. 

Profa:ve  History,  agreeing  with  sacred,  joins  in  the  establishment 
of  this  great  truth,  which  reason  itself,  independently  of  authority, 
must  have  clearly  evinced,  that  tiiis  visible  system  of  things  which 
we  term  the  Universe  has  had  its  commencement. 

All  accounts  of  the  early  history  of  single  nations  trace  them 
back  to  a  state  of  rudeness  and  bai'barism,  which  argues  a  new 
and  an  infant  establishment;  and  we  must  conclude  that  to  be 
true  with  respect  to  the  whole,  which  we  find  to  be  true  with 
respect  to  all  its  parts.  But  to  delineate  the  characters  of  diis 
early  state  of  society,  to  trace  distinctly  the  steps  by  which  popula- 
tion extended  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  habitable  globe;  the 
separation  of  mankind  into  tribes  and  nations;  the  causes  which  led 
to  the  formation  of  the  first  kingdoms,  and  the  precise  times  when 
they  were  formed — arc  matters  of  inquiry  for  whicji  neither  sacred 
nor  profane  history  aflx)rds  us  that  amplitude  of  information  which 
is  necessary  for  giving  clear  and  positive  ideas.  But  while  we 
travel  through  those  remote  periods  of  the  history  of  an  infant 
world,  making  the  best  of  those  lights  we  can  procure,  we  have 
the  comfort  of  thinking  that,  in  proportion  as  man  advances  from 
barbarism  to  civilization,  in  proportion  as  his  history  becomes  use- 
ful or  instructive,  its  certainty  increases,  and  its  materials  become 
more  authentic  and  more  abundant. 

The  Hebrew  text  of  the  sacred  writings  informs  us  that  a  period 
of  1G56  years  elapsed  between  the  Creation  of  the  world  and  the 
Deluge.  The  Books  of  Moses  contain  a  brief  detail  of  the  trans 
actions  of  that  period,  and  are  the  only  records  of  those  ages. 
With  regard  to  the  state  of  the  antediluvian  world,  speculative 
men  have  exercised  their  fancy  in  numberless  conjectures.  Vari- 
ous notions  have  been  formed  concerning  the  population  of  this 
globe  and  its  physical  appearance — jirobable  causes  conjectured  of 
the  longevity  of  its  inhabitants — inquiries  into  the  state  of  the 
arts — and  theories  framed  of  that  process  of  nature  by  which 
the  Almighty  Being  is  supposed  to  have  brought  about  the  univer- 
sal deluge.  These  are,  no  'doubt,  ingenious  and  interesting  spec-- 
ulations;  but  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to  fall  within  the  depart- 
ment of  history,  of  which  it  is  the  province  to  instruct  by  ascer- 


10  UMVERSAt.    IIISTOIIY.  [bOOK   I. 

taiucil  f:ifts,  aixl  Dot  to  ainiisc  l>y  fiinriful  theories.  To  lis,  wlio 
uisli  to  (lciiv(!  from  liistory  a  knowledge  of  liiiiiian  nature  as  it  is 
nl  present,  and  to  study  those  important  lessons  which  it  furnishes 
*()r  the  ron(hi(t  of  life,  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  know  what 
was  cither  the  physical  or  the  political  stale  of  the  world  before 
the  deluge.  As  so  entire  a  change  must  have  been  caused  by 
that  event  on  the  face  of  nature,  as  totally  to  extinguish  all  traces 
of  antediluvian  knou ledge,  and  to  reduce  the  world  anew  to  a 
state  of  infancy,  we  are  well  assured  that  the  manners,  customs, 
arts,  sciences,  and  political  arrangements  of  the  antediluvian  asies 
could  have  had  little  or  no  influence  on  those  which  succeeded 
ihcm. 

Of  the  times  immediately  following  the  deluge,  we  have  no  other 
original  history  than  that  containcfi  in  the  Books  of  Moses.  The 
sacred  w  ritings  inform  us,  that  the  family  of  Nonh  established  theni- 
sclves  in  the  plain  of  Shinaar,  w  here  they  built  the  Tower  of  Babel, 
and  that  the  confusion  of  their  language  caused  their  dispersion  into 
the  dillerenl  regions  of  the  earth. 

A  view  of  the  physical  surface  of  this  habitable  globe,  parted,  as 
we  observe  it  is,  by  those  great  natural  boundaries,  the  chains  of 
mountains,  and  the  rivers  which  intersect  it,  affords  the  most  con- 
vinciiiEj  evidence  that  the  carih  was  intended  by  the  great  Architect 
of  all  things  to  be  peopled  by  various  tribes  and  nations,  who 
should  be  perpetually  separated  froin  each  other  by  those  eternal 
barriers,  whicli  will  ever  prevent  empires  and  states  from  perma- 
nently exceeding  a  just  bound  of  territory.  Without  those  natural 
boundaries,  the  limits  of  kingdoms  must  have  been  continually  fluc- 
tuating; and  perpetual  discord  must  have  embroiled  the  universe. 
An  ambitious  potentate  may,  with  the  accidental  concurrence  of 
fiu'orable  circumstances,  enlarge  for  a  time  the  limits  of  an  empire, 
beyond  this  just  proportion;  but  the  force  of  government  and  laws 
.•s  weakened  as  its  sphere  is  extended:  and  the  encroachment  being 
clearly  marked  and  defined  by  those  natural  barriers,  the  lost  terri- 
tory will  scarcely  fail  to  be  regained  ;  and  the  revolution  of  a 
few  years  will  again  bring  empires  and  kingdoms  to  their  ancient 
limits. 

The  physical  nature,  with  respect  to  soil  and  climate,  of  the 
different  countries  into  which  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  were 
dispersed,  must,  in  most  cases,  have  determined  their  manner  of 
life,  and  influenced  the  condition  of  society.  If,  before  their  dis- 
persion, mankind  had  made  any  progress  in  the  arts,  as,  after  that 
event,  many  of  those  wandering  tribes  must,  from  the  nature  of 
the  countries  which  they  occupied,  have  betaken  themselves  to 
the  pastoral  life,  while  others  subsisted  solely  as  hunters,  the  arts 
among  them  being  totally  neglected  from  finding  no  call  to  their 
exercise;  it  is  no  wonder  that  we  observe,  soon  after  the  deluge, 
(he  greater  part  of  the  nations  in  a  state  of  barbarism,  or  little  ad- 
vanced beyond  that  condition.      Such  of  the  original  tribes,  how- 


CH.   II. J  ASSYRIA.  1" 

ever,  as,  without  any  distant  migration,  had  fixed  themselves  in 
the  vicinity  of  their  primeval  scats,  that  is,  on  the  borders  of  the 
Mediterranean  Sea,  very  naturally  retained  and  cultivated  those 
arts  of  which  their  progenitors  had  been  in  possession.  Thus, 
Nimrod,  the  grandson  of  Ham,  the  son  of  Noah,  about  150  years 
after  the  dolua;e,  is  said  to  have  founded  Babylon;  and  Assur,  the 
grandson  of  Noah,  to  have  built  the  city  of  Nineveh,  which  be- 
came the  capital  of  the  Assyrian  empire:  but  the  Mosaic  writings 
make  no  more  mention  of  Nimrod,  or  of  Assur,  or  any  of  their 
successors. 

Profane  historians,  on  the  other  hand,  make  Belus  the  founder 
of  Babylon,  who  is  therefore  supposed  to  have  been  the  same 
with  Nimrod.  His  son,  Ninus,  to  whom  those  historians  attribute 
the  foundation  of  Nineveh,  is  said  to  have  been  the  conqueror  of 
India  and  Bactriana;  and  under  him  and  his  queen  Semiramis, 
who  reigned  alone  after  his  death,  the  Assyrian  emj)ire  is  supj)osed 
to  have  attained  a  very  high  degree  of  splendor.  The  magnificence 
of  Babylon  and  of  Nineveh  would  indeed  give  immense  ideas  of 
the  wealth  and  power  of  Ninus  and  Semiramis;  but  it  is  scarcely 
credible  that  Nineveh,  in  the  time  of  its  founder,  and  Babylon, 
under  the  son  of  its  founder,  should  either  have  been  splendid  in 
themselves,  or  the  empire  very  considerable  to  which  they  belong- 
ed. It  is  the  conjecture  of  other  historians,  that  Nineveh  and 
Babylon,  till  the  year  590  after  the  deluge,  were  separate  mon- 
archies; that  Ninus,  who  reigned  at  Nineveh,  made  the  conquest 
of  Babylon;  and  that  the  date  of  the  Assyrian  empire,  properly 
so  called,  is  to  be  fixed  oi^ly  at  the  union  of  these  kingdoms.  But 
these  are  discussions  of  more  curiosity  than  importance,  and  we 
shall  not  enter  into  them. 

From  the  death  of  Ninias,  the  son  of  Ninus,  down  to  tlic  revoli 
of  the  Medes  under  Sardanapalus,  there  is  an  interval  of  800  years, 
in  which  there  is  an  absolute  void  in  the  history  of  Assyria  and 
Babylon.  The  names,  indeed,  of  the  supposed  sovereigns  during 
that  period  are  preserved,  but  there  are  no  traces  of  historical 
events.  Even  the  catalogue  of  the  names  of  those  princes  appears 
suspicious,  from  their  being  taken  from  the  Greek  and  Persian  lan- 
guages; as,  for  example,  Lamprides,  Dcrcylus,  Amyntas,  Xerxes, 
Aramitres.  This,  however,  is  no  conclusive  evidence  of  forgery; 
since  we  know  how  common  has  been  the  practice  of  authors  of 
translating  pro))er  names  (such,  at  least,  as  have  characteristic 
significations)  from  their  original,  into  the  language  used  by  the 
historian.*     By  those  who  support  the  authenticity  of  this  cata- 


"  Among  the  modern  writers,  Buchanan  and  tlie  I'resident  I)e  Thii\i  liave 
eiifn.iUy  impaired  the  utility  of  their  excellent  histories  hy  this  most  injudicious 
practice.  It  is  true  that  the  French  and  l^nijlisii  terminations  of  proper  names 
accord  e.Tfremely  ill  with  the  Iiarmonious  flow  of  classical  Latin  com|)osition  ■ 
but  this  defect  might  in  most  cases  be  remedied  bv  simply  giving  iJiose  nutiies 

VOL.    I.  3 


|g  tMVi;U.SAI.     HISTORY.  [nOOK  I 

(o^iie  of  llio  Assyrian  and  Babylonish  moiiarchs,  the  obsruriiy 
of  iliclr  rcipis  lias  been  aitribuled  to  the  indolonro,  cfTcriiinacy, 
and  (Icbatichcry  in  \vlii(  Ii  iboy  were  pl-mr^cd.  This,  liowevcr,  is 
a  weak  snpposilion.  It  is  ai^ainst  all  moral  proliahilily  that  a  great 
onipiro  should  have  sul)sistc(l  without  a  revolution  for  800  years, 
iinclcr  a  series  of  dissolute,  weak,  and  clTerjiinate  monarchs.  That 
iharacter  in  the  prince  is  the  parent  of  seditions,  consi)iracie3,  and 
rebellion  among;  the  people,  instead  of  p  quiet  and  peaceable  sub- 
j'jction;  and,  accordingly,  we  find  that  the  kingdom  of  Babylon, 
till  tlirn  united  with  Assyria,  shook  off  its  yoke  under  the  weak 
and  dissolute  Sardanapalus.  If  we  are  at  all  to  form  a  conjecture 
of  the  state  of  the  Assyrian  em|)ire  during  this  great  chasm  in  its 
history,  it  must  be  a  very  difi'ereni  one;  namely,  that  it  was  gov- 
erned by  a  scries  of  wise,  virtuous,  and  pacific  princes,  the  uniform 
tenor  of  whose  reigns  have  furnished  no  striking  events  for  liie 
mouth  of  tradition,  or  for  the  pen  of  the  historian. 

Besides  the  Assyrians,  the  Egyptians  are  the  only  nation  of 
whom  profane  history,  at  this  early  j)eriod,  makes  any  mention: 
but  the  commencement  of  their  history  is  as  uncertain  as  that  of 
the  Assyrians.  Menes  is  supi)Osed  the  first  king  in  Egypt,  and 
according  to  the  most  probable  theory,  which  connects  the  sacred 
with  the  profane  history,  he  is  believed  to  be  the  same  person 
with  Misraim,  the  grandson  of  Noah,  whom  there  are  likewise 
very  probable  grounds  for  supposing  to  be  the  deified  personage 
whom  the  Egyptians  venerated  under  the  name  of  Oziris.  Oziris 
is  described  aj  the  inventor  of  arts,  and  the  civilizcr  of  a  great 
part  of  the  world.  He  raised,  as  we  are  told,  a  prodigious  army, 
and  oveiian  Ethiopia,  Arabia,  and  great  part  of  India;  appeared  in 
all  the  nations  of  Asia,  and,  crossing  the  Hellespont,  continued  his 
progress  through  a  great  j)art  of  Europe.  This  extraordinary  man 
disseminated  the  arts,  built  cities,  and  was  universally  revered  as 
a  god.  Returning  to  Egypt,  he  was  assassinated  by  his  brother 
Typhon;  but  his  death  was  revenged  by  his  sister  Isis,  and  his 
apotheosis  solemnly  performed. 

After  Menes  or  Oziris,  Egypt  w;as  governed  by  a  succession  of 
illustrious  men,  whom  succeeding  ages  have  characterized  as  gods 
and  demigods.  The  country  was  tlien  divided  into  four  dynasties, 
— Thebes,  Thin,  Memphis,  and  Tanis;  the  inhabitants  of  which 
had  njade  great  progress  in  civilization  and  the  culture  of  the  arts, 
when  they  were  thrown  back  into  a  state  of  comparative  barbarism 
by  the  invasion  of  the  shepherd  kings,  a  body  of  marauders  from 
Ethiopia,  who  made  a  partition  of  the  whole  country,  each  of  the 
chicis   governing   independently  a  separate   province.*     The   do- 


a  I.ntin  trrminatinn.  The  disjrtiise  is  impenetrnble  where  the  word  itself  is 
tttrniptrd  to  be  tninshted.  as  PIriippus  (Harry  IloUpur,)  Sopkocardhts  (\Vi»- 
hart.'i  Mfgalorrphitlus  (Malcolm  Canmore.)  &c. 

•  Mr.  Bruce,  iq  his  History  of  Abyssinia,  has   made    it  eilremely  probable 


CH     III  ]  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATIONS  l9 

minion  of  these  shepherd  kings  is  said  to  liave  subsisted  ftn  259 
years,  when  they  were  expelled  by  Aoiinsis,  a  prince  of  Upper 
Egypt,  and  forced  to  retreat  with  their  adherents  into  the  neigh- 
boring countries  of  Syria  and  Palestine.  What  space  of  time 
elapsed  from  the  terminalion  put  to  their  dominion  by  the  famous 
Sesostris,  is  absolutely  uncertain;  nor  with  regard  to  this  prince, 
can  we  give  any  credit  to  those  most  hyperbolical  accounts  either 
of  his  foreign  conquests  or  his  domestic  policy,  and  the  wonderhil 
economy  of  his  government.  Yet,  though  we  cannot  easily  be- 
lipve  with  Herodotus  that  the  sovereign  of  a  country  which  is  said 
to  have  contained  27,000,000  of  inhabitants,  could  effect  an  equal 
partition  of  all  the  lands  of  the  empire  among  his  subjects;  nor  with 
Diodorus  Sicukis,  that  the  same  prince,  v/ith  an  army  of  000,000 
men,  and  27,000  armed  chariots,  traversed  and  subdued  the  whole 
continent  of  Asia  and  a  great  part  of  Europe,  we  may  at  least  hold 
it  probable  that  the  Egyptians  had  a  sovereign  of  the  name  of 
Sesostris,  who  distinguished  himself  iu  those  rude  ages,  both  as 
a  conqueror  and  a  legislator.  The  reverence  paid  to  the  name  of 
Sesostris  by  the  ancient  Egyptians,  and  the  honors  done  to  his 
memory  as  a  great  benefactor  of  his  country,  sufficiently  prove  the 
reality  of  such  a  personage. 


CHAPTER  HI. 


On  the  nature  of  the  first  Governments,  and  on  the  Manners  and  Customs,  Lawi 
Arts,  and  Sciences  of  the  early  Nations. 

Amidst  the  scanty  materials  of  authentic  history  in  those  early 
ages  of  the  world,  it  may  alford  matter  of  amusing  as  well  as  useful 
speculation,  to  consider  what  must  have  been  the  nature  of  the  first 
governments;  and  to  endeavor  to  discover  the  genius  of  the  ancient 
nations  from  those  traces  of  laws,  manners  and  customs,  arts  and 
sciences,  which  are  preserved  to  us,  with  the  aid  of  such  conjectures 
as  are  founded  on  a  fair  and  jnst  analogy. 

The  rudest  period  of  society   is   that   in   which  the  patriarchal 


that  the  shepherds  who  invaded  Fjjvpt  were  a  tribe  from  the  Ahvssininn  coast  of 
the  Red  Sea,  called  lieni,  who  had  become  acquainted  wilh  I"tryi>l  in  the  way  of 
comtjierce,  as  the  carriers  of  the  Cashile  merchants,  and  otiserviiig  the  weakness 
of  the  country,  while  they  envied  its  wealth,  subdued  it,  after  three  several  inva- 
liions. — Hce  Brure'e  Tracds. 


20  uMVKKSAi,  iiisTony.  |  nooK  i 

^nvonunPtU  tnkrs  placo,  or  where  tliere  is  no  other  siihordination 
know  II  ihiiii  lh;it  oMhe  nieiiihers  of  a  family  to  ihoir  head  or  parent, 
liiil  this  simple  form  of  soeiety  can  l)e  of  no  lone;  duration.  Dis- 
sens.dns  arisint^,  and  the  more  powerlnl  families  sidjduing  the  weaker, 
comhinations  would  naturally  he  formed  to  resist  the  enrroaehments 
of  a  covetous  or  amhitions  patriarch  ;  and  an  union  of  interests 
woidd  take  place  as  the  benefits  of  snch  a  compact  would  be  felt 
alike  for  defence  or  for  revenge,  for  conquest  or  for  domestic  secu- 
rity. Rut  the  authority  of  the  j)atriareh,  thus  weakened  in  some 
resjieets  by  the  control  of  a  common  ciiief,  would  not  necessarily 
be  extin2;iiished  or  destroyed.  The  family  would  become  memher.? 
of  a  tribe  or  elan;  but  the  father  would  still  retain  his  authority  over 
his  children  and  his  servants:  the  number  of  these  would  reiuler  his 
power  still  considerable;  and  the  chief  cr  king  would  always  find  it 
his  interest  to  pay  such  deference  to  the  principal  patriarchs  of  his 
tribe,  as  to  consult  with  them  in  all  affairs  whirh  regarded  the 
cointnon  good.* 

We  may,  therefore,  fairly  presume  that  a  limited  monarchy  was 
the  earliest  form  of  regular  government  among  the  ancient  nations. 
The  scrijjtures,  as  well  as  the  profane  historians,  bear  evidence  to 
this  fact.  A  republic  is  an  idea  too  refined  and  too  complex  for 
a  rude  people  to  form:  and  despotic  monarchies  arise  only  after 
extensive  conquests,  and  a  great  enlargement  of  empire. 

The  first  monarchies  must  have  been  very  weak,  and  their  terri- 
tory extremely  limited.  The  sovereigns  would  be  little  desirous 
of  extending  thcni  by  conquest  while  the  land  supplied  the  wants 
of  its  inhabitants.  Security  is  the  first  idea  :  ambition  is  long 
posterior,  and  takes  place  only  when  population  is  abundant,  and 
increasing  luxury  demands  increased  supplies.  In  forming  our 
notions  of  the  power  of  the  first  monarchies  we  are  apt  to  be  misled 
by  the  word  king^  which,  in  modern  language  and  according  to 
modern  ideas,  is  connected  with  an  extent  of  territory  and  a  pro- 
portional power.  Yet  the  Jewish  annals,  the  most  ancient  of  all 
histories,  ought  to  have  corrected  such  erroneous  notions.  Che- 
darloa'iier,  the  first  who  is  recorded  to  have  attempted  a  military 
expedition,  was,  together  with  three  kings,  his  allies,  defeated  by 
the  patriarch  Abraham  with  three  hundred  and  eighteen  men  of 
his  own  household.  Nimrod  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  mighty 
monarch.  All  that  Moses  says  of  him  is,  that  he  was  a  mighty 
hunter.  The  very  idea  of  a  hunter  excludes  the  supposition  of  a 
powerful  sovereign,  or  a  great  empire.  It  supjioses,  what  was 
certainly  the  case,  that  the  earth  was  covered  with  forests,  the 
receptacles  of  wild  beasts,  and  consequently  very  thinly  inhabited. 
A  hunter-chief,  in  his  excursions,  might,  no  doubt,  range  over  the 

•  The  PresidiMil  (lopuot  gives  a  very  rational  deduction  of  the  origin  of  the 
first  ffovornnifnU.  and  of  the  transition  from  the  patriarchal  subordination  to  the 
wtablisiiinenl  of  tlie  monarchical  form. — Origin  of  iMtrs,  b.  i. 


CH.    HI.]  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATIONS.  2' 

extent  of  modern  kingdoms  and  em[)ires;  but  what  was  liis  pc  wer. 
and  who  were  his  subjects.''  The  control,  and  even  that  a  very 
limited  authority,  over  a  few  hordes  or  families  who  pitched  their 
tents  in  a  narrow  valley  in  the  midst  of  deserts,  or  occupied,  per- 
haps, but  a  portion  of  that  valley.  A  single  town,  or  more  pro- 
perly an  encampment,  was  then  termed  a  kingdom.  There  were 
five  kings  in  the  vale  of  Sodom.  Joshua  defeated  thirty-one  kings. 
Adonibezek,  who  died  a  little  after  the  time  of  Joshua,  boasted 
that  he  had  defeated  three  score  and  ten  kings,  and  mutilating 
their  hands  and  feet,  had  made  them  gather  their  meat  under  his 
table. 

In  those  early  periods  the  regal  dignity  was,  in  all  probability, 
attained  by  the  personal  talents  of  individuals,  on  account  of  emi- 
nent services  performed  to  their  country;  and,  of  course,  the  office 
of  king  was  at  first  elective.*  The  jjrogress  is  natural  from  thence 
to  a  hereditary  monarchy.  The  transmission  of  the  throne  to  the 
heir  of  the  last  sovereign  originated  from  experience  of  the  mis 
chiefs  arising  from  f  equent  elections,  and  the  disorders  occasioned 
by  ambitious  men  asj)iring  to  that  dignity.  The  dread  of  these 
evils,  combining  with  the  natural  feeling  of  regard  which  a  people 
entertains  for  the  family  of  the  man  under  whose  government  they 
have  been  happy,  —  the  presumption  that  his  offspring  may  inherit 
from  nature,  example,  or  education,  the  virtues  of  their  father;  all 
these  circumstances  would  coilperate  to  render  the  kingly  office 
hereditary:  and  such,  therefore,  we  find  from  ancient  history  was 
the  constitution  of  the  earliest  governments. 

The  first  ideas  of  coiiquest  must  have  proceeded  from  a  people 
in  the  state  of  shepherds,  like  the  wandering  Tartars  and  Scythians, 
who,  necessarily  changing  their  territory  in  quest  of  new  pastures, 
would  often  make  incuisions  upon  the  fixed  dominions  of  the  culti- 
vated countries.  And  such  was  the  condition  of  those  marauders 
from  Ethiopia,  or  perhajjs  Abyssinia,  whom  we  have  already  men- 
tioned under  the  name  of  shepherd  kings,  as  havuig  been  the 
con(]uerors  of  Egypt.  But  monarchies  or  empires,  thus  founded 
oy  the  invasion  of  a  rude  and  wandering  people,  could  seldom  be 
stable  or  permanent.  An  extensive  monarchy  is,  therefore,  a  rare 
phenomenon  not  to  be  looked  for  in  such  a  state  of  society.  It 
presupposes  a  considerable  degree  of  intellectual  refinement,  gen- 


*  The  account  which  Herodotus  gives  of  the  election  of  the  first  Uing  of  the 
Modes  is  indicative  of  the  rise  of  iimnarchy  in  other  rude  nations.  The  .Medes, 
after  their  revolt  from  the  Assyrians,  were  subject  to  all  the  disorders  and  miseries 
of  anarciiv.  An  able  man,  of  tl>e  name  of  Dejoces,  was  extremely  siieressrui  in 
quietinir  these  disorders,  and  hy  dc'o;rfes  attained  to  murli  inHiieiice  and  respect 
amonif  his  cnmtrvmen.  Oppressed  witii  the  fatigues  with  wlii(-li  this  voluntary 
duty  was  attended,  Dejoces  betook  iiimsclf  to  retirement.  The  Medes  now  fidt 
tiie  want  of  his  authority,  and,  in  a  jreneral  assembly  of  the  poopio,  it  was 
unanimously  resolved  to  invest  their  benefactor  with  the  sovereign  nower. — 
Herod,  h.  \.,c.  d7,  el  seq. 


J".'  UNIVKRSAf.    MISTORV.  [dOOK    I 

t'ral  Imhili*  of  order  and  subordination,  niid  a  regular  system  of  laws, 
nil  which  is  the  work  of  ages;  nor  will  political  regulations  meet 
with  any  respect  or  obedience  unless  among  a  |)ooj)le  thus  refined 
and  iMilightened, — a  state  of  society  far  advanced  beyond  the  rude 
condilion  of  shepherds  or  hunters. 

Advancement  from  barbarism  to  civilization  is  a  very  slow  and 
gradlial  process,  because  every  step  in  that  process  is  the  result  of 
necessity  after  the  experience  of  an  error,  or  the  strong  feeling  of 
a  want.  These  experiences,  frequently  repeated,  show  at  length 
the  necessity  of  certain  rules  and  customs  to  be  followed  by  the 
general  consent  of  all;  and  these  rules  become  in  time  positive 
enactments  or  laws,  enforced  by  certain  penalties,  which  are  various 
in  their  kind  and  in  their  degree,  according  to  the  state  of  society  at 
the  time  of  their  formation.  Some  political  writers  have  supposed 
that  during  the  infancy  of  society  penal  laws  must  have  been  ex- 
ceedingly mild,  from  the  want  of  authority  in  government  to  enforce 
such  as  are  severe.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  perhaps  appear 
a  more  natural  conjecture  that  rude  and  ferocious  manners  would 
incite  to  rigorous  and  cruel  punishments,  and  that  the  ruder  and 
more  untractablc  the  people,  the  severer  must  be  the  laws  neces- 
sary to  restrain  them.  The  strength  of  the  violent  passions  which 
promjit  to  crimes  in  a  rude  state  of  society  is  to  be  curbed  only 
by  the  severest  bodily  inflictions.  Punishmentsvvhich  operate  by 
shame,  or  by  restrakits  upon  liberty,  would  have  little  effect  in  a 
state  of  this  kind.  But  the  fact  does  not  rest  upon  conjecture. 
History  actually  informs  us  that  the  most  ancient  penal  laws  were 
remarkably  severe.  By  the  Mosaic  law,  the  crimes  of  homicide, 
adultery,  incest,  and  rape  were  punished  with  burning,  stoning, 
and  the  most  cruel  kinds  of  death.  Diodorus  Siculus  notices  the 
same  spirit  of  severity  in  the  ancient  laws  of  the  Egyptians.  The 
first  laws  of  the  Athenians,  framed  by  Draco,  are  proverbial  for 
their  cruelty.  The  earliest  laws  of  the  Roman  state,  at  least  those 
of  the  Twelve  Tables,  are  full  of  the  most  severe  punishments,  and 
capital  inflictions  for  altnost  every  offence.  Caesar  informs  us  that 
the  Gauls  burnt  their  criminals  alive,  in  honor  of  their  gods.  When 
we  contrast  these  authorities  with  the  opinion  of  ilie  ingenious  Lord 
Kames,  we  perceive  the  danger  of  writing  history  upon  theoretical 
principles  instead  of  facts. 

Anion;;  the  earliest  laws  of  all  stales  are  those  regarding  mar- 
riage; for  the  institution  of  marriage  is  coeval  with  the  formation  of 
society.     The  progress  is  well  described  by  the  Roman  poet: — 

"  Inde  rasas  postqnam,  ac  pelles  ijrnemqne  pararunt, 
F.t  inulier  conjiincta  viro  concessit  in  unun\ 
Caslnque  privattr  veneris  connubia  ItEla 
Cognila  sunt,  prolomque  ex  sc  videre  creatam  ; 
Tuni  genus  humanuin  primuin  mollescere  ccepit. 

Lucrei.  1.  ▼.  1009. 

And  this  we  obscne  is  long  prior  to  the  formation  of  large  com 


CII.     Ill   ]  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATIONS.  23 

inunities.*  It  is  not  till  the  arts  had  inade  some  progress  that  met 
began  to  rear  towns  and  cities. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  society  to  exist  without  the  care  of 
children,  which  presupposes  a  rule  for  ascertaining  ther.i  The 
first  sovereigns  of  all  nations,  therefore,  are  said  to  have  instituted 
marriage;  —  Menes,  the  first  king  of  Egypt;  Fohi,  the  first  sove- 
reign of  China;  Cecrops,  the  first  legislator  of  the  Greeks.  The 
earliest  laws  of  many  civilized  nations  likewise  provided  encourage- 
ments for  matrimony.  By  the  Jewish  law,  a  married  man  was  for 
the  first  yeaP  exempted  from  going  to  war,  and  excused  from  the 
burden  of  any  public  office.  Among  the  Peruvians  he  was  free  for 
a  year  from  the  payment  of  all  taxes.  The  respect  for  the  matri- 
monial union  cannot  be  more  clearly  evinced  than  by  the  severity 
with  which  the  greater  part  of  the  ancient  nations  restrained  the 
crime  of  adultery.  In  reality  no  moral  offence  is  equally  pernicious 
lo  society. 

In  the  marriages  of  many  of  the  ancient  nations  a  custom  j)re- 
vailed  in  many  respects  more  honorable  than  the  modern  j)rac- 
lice.  The  husband  was  obliged  to  purchase  his  wife,  cither  by 
presents  or  by  personal  services  performed  to  her  father.  When 
Abraham  sent  Eliezer  to  demand  Rebecca  for  bis  son  Isaac,  he 
charged  him  with  magnificent  presents.  Jacob  served  seven  years 
for  each  of  the  daughters  of  Laban  who  were  given  to  him  in 
marriage.  Homer  alludes  to  this  custom  as  subsisting  in  Greece. 
He  makes  Agamemnon  say  to  Achilles  that  he  will  give  him  one 
of  his  daughters  in  marriage,  and  require  no  present  in  return. 
That  the  same  custom  was  in  use  among  the  ancient  inhabitants 
of  India,  of  Spain,  Germany,  Thrace,  and  Gaul,  appears  from 
Strabo,  Tacitus,  and  many  other  writers;  and  the  accounts  of 
modern  travellers  assure  us,  that  it  prevails  at  this  day  in  China, 
Tartary,  Tonquin,  among  the  Moors  of  Africa,  and  the  savages  of 
America. 

As  Herodotus  is  not  always  to  be  depended  on  in  matters  that 
did  not  fall  under  his  own  observation,  I  know  not  whether  we 
should  give  im])licit  credit  to  what  he  relates  of  a  singular  practice 
which  prevailed  among  the  Assyrians,  with  respect  to  marriage, 
though  it  seems  to  have  a  natural  foundation  in  the  custom  above- 
mentioned,  which  prevailed  in  most  of  the  ancient  nations.  In 
every  village,  says  that  author,  they  brought  together  once  in  the 
y^ear  all  the  young  women  who  were  marriageable,  and  the  j)ublic 
crier,  beginning  with  the  most  beautiful,  put  them  up  to  auction, 


"After  a  fine  dpscriptinn  of  tho  first  stages  of  savatrf  life,wIion  man  liad  smrcolr 
advanced  beyond  llie  hriite,  tlie  poet  says  : — "Hut  when  they  beiran  to  build  iheii 
first  rude  liuts,  to  clothe  themselves  in  skins,  and  had  discovered  the  use  of  fire, 
when  first  one  woman  wag  joined  to  one  man  in  the  chaste  endearments  of  mutual 
love,  and  saw  their  own  offspring  risinjr  around  them,— then  only  did  the  ferocioui 
manners  of  the  human  race  bejrin  to  sollen." 


24  UNivKKSAi.  iiisroiiv.  [book  I 

one  after  anotmr.  The  rich  paid  a  high  price  Ajr  ihosc  whose 
figure  seemed  to  ihciii  the  most  agreeable;  and  the  money  raised 
hy  the  sale  of  these  was  assigned  as  a  portion  to  the  more  liomely. 
VVhen  it  was  llieir  turn  to  be  put  up  to  sale,  each  woman  was 
bestowed  on  tlie  man  who  was  wilh'ng  to  accept  of  her  with  the 
smallest  portion;  but  no  man  was  allowed  to  carry  off  ihc  woman 
he  had  purchased,  unless  he  gave  security  that  he  would  take  her 
to  wife;  and  if  afterwards  it  happened  that  the  husband  ff)r  any 
cause  put  away  his  wife,  he  was  obliged  to  pay  back  the  money 
he  IkkI  received  with  her.  The  same  author  infornfe  us  that  (he 
Assyrian  laws  were  most  strict  in  providing  that  women  should  be 
well  used  by  their  liusbands.  The  condition  of  woman  is,  in  ail 
ages,  a  criterion  of  the  progress  of  civilization  and  refinement  of 
manners. 

In  an  early  period  of  society,  next  in  importance  to  the  regula- 
tions of  marriage,  arc  the  laws  which  regulate  the  division  of  a 
man's  estate  after  his  death.  Anciently,  among  most  nations,  the 
father  of  a  family  seems  to  have  had  the  absolute  power  of  dispo- 
sing of  his  effects  in  any  manner  he  chose.  Abraham  bequeathed 
at  his  death  his  whole  possessions  to  Isaac,  though  he  had  many 
other  children.  To  these  he  had  made  some  gifts  during  his  life- 
lime.  Jacob  gave  Joseph  a  portion  above  the  rest  of  his  brethren 
of  the  land  he  had  taken  from  the  Amorites.  Job  di\  ided  his 
whole  inheritance  in  equal  portions  among  his  sons  and  daughters. 
The  history  of  Jacob  and  Esau,  however,  affords  a  proof  that  cer- 
tain rights  and  pri\ileges  were  attendant  on  primogeniture,  as  the 
control  over  the  younger  children,  of  which  even  the  parent  could 
not  deprive  his  first-born;  an  authority  which  we  learn  from  Homer 
and  Herodotus  was  inherent  in  the  eldest  son,  by  the  custom  of  the 
most  civilized  nations  of  antiquity. 

These  laws,  or  rather  consuetudinary  regulations,  which  I  have 
mentioned,  it  will  be  easily  seen,  must  have  arisen  necessarily  and 
imperceptibly  from  the  state  of  society,  rather  than  from  any  ex- 
press enactments,  of  politicians  and  legislators.  It  was  not  till 
agriculture  had  first  established  the  distinction  of  property  and 
increased  its  value,  till  the  wants  of  man  were  multiplied,  and  arts 
and  commerce  were  introduced  to  supply  them,  that  the  rights  of 
individuals  became  complicated,  and  regular  systems  of  laws,  en- 
forced by  pro|)er  penalties,  became  necessary  to  secure  and  defend 
them.  Hence  we  may  perceive  the  connection  between  history 
and  jurisprudence,  and  the  lights  which  they  mutually  throw  upor 
each  other.  The  surest  key  to  the  interpretation  of  the  laws  of 
rountry  is  its  history;  and  in  like  manner,  where  the  history  of  a 
country  is  in  any  periods  dark  and  uncertain,  those  obscuiities  are 
best  elucidated  bv  the  studv  of  its  ancient  laws.* 


*  Many  laws  cnntain  in  llioir  preamble  an  explicit  declaration  of  the  political 
emcrjjcncy   wliich  required  llieir  enactuienl.     The  evil  to  Le  remedied  is  par 


CH.   III.]  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATIONS.  15 

Tlie  invention  of  writing  is  among  the  improvements  of  a  society, 
where  men  have  attained  to  a  considerable  degree  of  civilization  ;* 
but  long  before  such  invention,  the  more  important  afi'airs  even  o' 
a  rude  society  demand  some  solemn  method  of  authentication. 
Contracts,  sales,  testaments,  marriages,  require  a  certain  publicily 
and  solemnity  of  transaction  in  order  to  enforce  their  observance  ; 
and  accordingly  we  find  that  among  the  early  nations,  or  those 
which  are  yet  in  a  state  of  barbarism,  such  affairs  of  importance 
are  always  transacted  in  public  and  before  witnesses.  Al)raham, 
in  the  presence  of  the  whole  people,  concludes  a  bargain  lor  a 
place  of  burial  for  his  wife  Sarah.  Homer,  in  his  description  of  the 
sculpture  which  adorned  the  shield  of  Achilles,  represents  two 
citizens  pleading  concerning  the  fine  due  for  a  homicide.  The 
cause  is  heard  before  the  people,  and  both  plaintiff  and  defend- 
ant appeal  to  the  testimony  of  witnesses  : — 

"There  in  the  fonnn  swarm  a  numerous  train, 
The  subject  of  debate  a  townsman  shiin  : 
One  pleads  the  fine  disoharired,  which  one  denied, 
And  bade  the  public  and  the  laws  decide  : 
The  witness  is  produced  on  eiliier  hand: 
For  this  or  that  the  [lartial  jjeopie  stand  : 
Tir  appointed  heralds  still  tiie  noisy  l)ands, 
And  form  a  ring  witii  sceptres  in  their  hands. 
On  seats  of  stone,  within  the  sacred  place 
The  reverend  elders  paused  upon  the  case; 
Aheruate  each  ill'  attestintr  sceptre  took. 
And  rising,  solemn,  each  his  sentence  spoKC." 

Pope's  Iliad,  b.  18 

Some  of  the  northern  barbarous  nations  use,  at  this  day,  a  mode 
of  authenticating  contracts  by  symbols,  which  is  a  nearer  approach 
to  the  solemnity  of  writing.  After  the  agreement  is  made,  the 
parties  cut  a  piece  of  wood  irregularly  into  two  tallies  ;  each  parly 
keeps  one  of  these,  and  both  are  given  up  and  destroyed  wIkmi 
the  bargain  is  fulfilled.  A  custom  of  this  kind  supposes  a  state  of 
society  where  all  agreements  are  of  the  simplest  nalm-e  ;  for  these 
tallies,  though  they  might  certify  the  existence  of  a  contract,  could 
never  give  evidence  of  its  tenor. 

An  invention  somewhat  more  refined  than  this,  and  a))proacli- 
mg  still  nearer  to  writing,  was  the  Peruvian  qnipos,  or  cords  of 
various  colors,  with  certain  knots  upon  them  of  different  size,  and 
differently  combined.  With  these  they  contrived  to  accomplish 
most  of  the  purposes  of  writing  ;  they  formed  registers  which  con 

ticularly  specified.  \n  this  view,  such  laws  are  in  themselves  a  species  of  his 
tory.  Other  laws  point  out  merely  the  state  of  manners,  without  reference  to 
any  particular  facts;  but  attending  to  the  period  of  time  when  those  laws  were 
enacted,  sucij  information  is  perhaps  even  of  greater  imporlunce  than  the  other; 
for  it  supplies  often  what  is  either  wanting,  or  but  imperfectly  to  be  gathered 
from  the  iiislorical  annals  of  a  nation. 

*  On  the  origin  of  alphnhetic  writing  see  a  very  ingenious  and  elaborate  di» 
■ertalioii  ly  M.  Goguel.     Orig.  des  Lan   t.  1.  liv.  2.  c.  U. 
VOL.  I.  4 


CG  UMVF.nsAr.  historv  [ijook.  i 

taiiuid  ilio  annals  of  tlKiir  ompiro,  llic  state  of  the  public  revenues, 
the  account  of  their  taxes  for  the  support  of  government,  and  bjr 
means  of  thcni  they  recorded  their  astronomical  observations. 

One  step  farih^'r  in  this  process  is  the  expression  of  ideas  by 
paintini;.  W'lirn  the  S|)aniards  arrived  in  Mexico,  the  inhabitants 
of  the  seacoasts  sent  intcllii^cnce  to  their  emperor  Montezuma,  by 
n  large  cloth,  on  which  they  had  carefully  depicted  every  thing 
they  had  seen  of  the  appearance  and  progress  of  the  invaders. 
Some  sjjecimens  of  the  picture-writing  of  the  Mexicans  are  to  be 
*bund  in  Dr.  Robertson's  History  of  America.  Among  other 
nations  the  difliculty  and  inconvenience  of  this  practice  taught  men 
to  abriilge  these  signs  ;  to  give,  instead  of  a  complete  picture  of 
the  object,  some  characteristic  part  of  it  ;  and  by  the  addition  of 
certain  marks  or  strokes  to  make  these  pictures  significant  even  of 
relations,  qualities,  passions,  and  sentiments.  It  is  certain  that  by 
the  hieroglyphical  writing  of  the  Egyptians  was  conveyed  a  great 
deal  of  complicated  intelligence.* 

With  regard  to  the  use  made  by  the  Egyptians  of  hieroglyphical 
writing,  there  have  been  different  opinions.  It  has  been  disputed, 
for  example,  whether  the  Egyptians  employed  them  for  communi- 
cating knowledge,  or  for  recording  it  while  they  meant  at  the 
same  time  to  conceal  that  knowledge  from  the  vulgar.  The 
President  Goguet  has  endeavored  to  reconcile  both  opinions.  "It 
is  easy  to  prove,"  says  he,  "  that  the  Egyptians  used  hieroglyphics 
at  first,  only  to  transmit  the  knowledge  of  their  laws,  their  cus- 
toms, and  their  history  to  posterity.  It  was  nature  and  necessity, 
not  art  and  choice,  that  produced  the  several  kinds  of  hierogly- 
phic writing.  It  was  an  imperfect  and  defective  invention,  suited 
to  the  ignorance  of  the  early  ages.  The  Egyptians  used  it  be- 
cause they  were  ignorant  of  letters.  Afterwards,  when  by  inter- 
course with  the  Greeks  the  Egyptians  learned  the  use  of  alpha- 
betic characters,  they  abandoned  the  hieroglyphic  writing,  which 


•  "The  liistory  of  the  world,"  says  Mr.  Barrow.  "  afTords  abundant  evidence 
ttiat,  in  the  dawn  of  civilization,  most  nations  endeavored  to  fix  and  to  per- 
pottiale  ideas  l>y  painting  the  fijxures  of  the  objects  that  produced  them.  Thl 
Bosipsmen  Unttentnis,  llie  most  wild  and  savage  race  perhaps  of  human  beings, 
»re  in  the  constint  habit  of  drawins^  on  the  sides  of  caverns  the  represeiitationa 
of  the  different  animals  peculiar  to  the  country.  When  I  visited  some  of  those 
caverns.  I  considered  sunh  drawinn:s  as  the  emplnynient  of  idle  hours:  but  on 
•ince  reflectinjj  that  in  all  such  caverns  are  also  to  be  seen  the  figures  of  Dutch 
boors  (who  hunt  these  iiiiserable  creatures  like  wild  beasts)  in  a  variety  of  atti- 
tudes ;  some  with  jiuns  in  their  hands,  and  others  in  the  act  of  firing  upon  their 
countrymen  ;  wagons  sometimes  proceeding,  and  at  others  standing  still,  the 
oxen  unyoked  and  the  boors  sleepinor ;  and  liiese  representations  generally 
followed  by  a  number  of  lines  scored  like  so  many  tallies;  I  am  inclined  to 
think  they  have  adopted  this  method  of  informing  their  companions  of  the  num- 
fter  of  their  eneimes.  and  the  magnitude  of  the  danger.  The  animals  represent- 
ed were  generally  such  as  are  to  be  met  with  in  the  district  where  the  drawings 
ap[>earcd  ;  this,  to  a  people  who  subsist  by  the  chase  and  by  plunder,  might 
«rve  as  another  piece  of  important  information." — Barrow  s  Travels  in  China 
p.  i>4t;. 


CH     111.]  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATIONS.  27 

soon  ceased  to  be  generally  understood.  It  was  then  that  the 
Egyptian  priests,  who  like  other  learned  men  in  rude  ages  sought 
to  conceal  and  make  a  mystery  of  their  knowledge,  used  the  hiero- 
glyphic writing  as  a  convenient  vrii." 

But  all  those  methods  of  recording  or  conveying  intelligence 
which  wei'e  in  use  before  the  invention  of  alphabetic  writings,  were 
found  extremely  unfit  lor  two  most  important  purposes;  the  record- 
ing of  historical  events,  and  the  promulsation  of  laws.  It  was 
therefore  nece-sary  for  the  early  nations  to  adopt  some  other  me- 
thod of  record  and  publication;  and  none  other  adequate  to  the 
imperfection  of  their  knowledge  and  attainments  was  so  suitable 
for  those  purposes  as  poetical  composition.  Poetry  or  song  was 
therefore  in  all  nations  the  first  vehicle  of  history,  and  the  earliest 
mode  of  promulgating  laws;  for  nothing  was  found  equally  capable 
of  striking  with  force  the  imagination,  and  impressing  the  memory. 
The  earliest  poetry  of  all  nations  is  devoted  to  the  celebration  of 
the  praises  of  their  gods,  and  to  the  commemoration  of  the  ex- 
ploits of  illustrious  heroes.  When  society  has  made  some  advance- 
ment, and  laws  are  established  to  guard  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
men,  a  legislator,  observing  with  what  avidity  the  songs  of  the 
bards  are  listened  to;  how  universally  they  are  circulated,  and 
how  tenaciously  retained,  judiciously  avails  liimself  of  the  same 
vehicle  for  the  publication  of  liis  laws.  Plato,  in  his  J\finos,  in- 
forms us,  that  the  first  laws  of  all  nations  were  composed  in  verse 
and  sung.  Apollo  is  recorded  to  have  been  one  of  the  first  legis- 
lators, and  to  have  published  his  laws  to  the  sound  of  his  harp, 
that  is,  set  them  to  music.  That  this  mode  of  promulgation  was 
in  use  among  the  ancient  Greeks,  the  word  AV«o?,  which  signifies 
both  a  law  and  a  song,  is  direct  proof:  and  Aristotle,  in  his  prob- 
lems, incjuiring  into  the  reason  of  this  conformity  of  names  between 
two  such  diflerent  objects,  gives  this  express  reason,  that  before 
the  use  of  writing,  it  was  customary  to  keep  the  laws  in  remem- 
brance by  singing  them;  and  this,  according  to  the  same  author, 
was  the  custom  of  many  different  nations.  The  laws  of  the  ancient 
inhabitants  of  Spain  were  all  in  verse;  as  were  likewise  the  laws  of 
Tuisto,  the  first  legislator  of  the  ancient  Germans. 

Another  mode  of  ]ireserving  the  remembrance  of  historical  events 
was  by  visible  monuments,  which  were  comparatively  rude  or  arti- 
ficial in  their  structure,  according  to  the  condition  of  society,  or  the 
age  in  which  they  were  erected.  Such  are  those  heaps  of  stones 
raised  as  memorials  of  ancient  battles,  single  unhewn  blocks,  or 
adorned  with  rude  sculpture,  expressive  of  the  actions  comme- 
morated; and  in  more  polished  times,  columns,  triumphal  arches, 
and  coins  or  medals  on  which  writing  and  sculpture  are  united 
With  respect  even  to  the  rudest  of  all  monuments,  the  cairns  or 
heaps  of  stones,  or  single  unscnlptured  blocks,  the  historical  facts 
which  they  conimemoratefl  wciuld  long  be  preserved  by  tradition, 
for  even  a  migration  of  the  inhabitants  of  a  country  or  its  coloni- 


28  l/.MVKKSAr,    IIISTOUY.  [liOOK   I. 

zalion  by  a  new  race,  would  not  be  followed  by  a  total  loss  of  its 
history.  The  new  settlers  would  anxiously  inquire  into  ilie  mean- 
ing of  such  tnonuTnenls,  and  preserve  the  tradition,  as  illuatrating 
the  ancient  hislory  of  that  country  which  they  had  subdued. 

Coins  and  medals  are  the  invention  of  a  polished  people,  and 
are  of  singular  use  as  the  records  of  historical  events.  They  have 
been  justly  termed  portable  monuments;  and  they  have  this  ad- 
vantage over  the  most  durable  structures  that  were  ever  raiserl  by 
human  industry,  that,  as  vast  numbers  were  commonly  struck  of 
the  same  impression,  they  stand  a  much  fainr  chance  of  passing 
down  to  posterity;  and  even  their  being  lost  or  buried  in  the  earth 
ensures  their  |)reservaiion.  Of  such  medals  or  coins  even  the  spu- 
rious copies,  though  a  fraud  upon  ignorant  collectors  and  virluosij 
are  of  equuJ  service  with  the  original,  for  the  purposes  of  the  his- 
torian.* 

Among  the  earliest  institutions  of  all  nations  are  those  which  re- 
gard religious  worship.  The  sentiment  of  religion  has  its  oiigin 
in  the  nature  of  the  human  mind,  or  in  those  passions  which  are 
a  part  of  our  constitution.  Let  us  conceive  an  infant  thrown  by 
some  chance  into  a  solitary  desert,  and  there  to  have  grown  to 
manhood  without  intercourse  with  any  other  being  of  his  own  spe- 
cies; I  think  it  is  highly  probable  that  such  a  person  would  form 
to  himself  some  idea  of  a  First  Cause,  or  creative  power,  to  whom 
he  would  refer  the  origin  of  himself,  and  of  all  he  saw  around 
him.  Perceiving  a  settled  order  in  the  course  of  the  sun  and  mo- 
tion of  the  stars,  a  regular  vicissitude  of  day  and  night,  and  a  stated 
return  of  seasons,  his  mind  could  not  fail,  to  attribute  that  order 
and  regularity  to  the  operation  of  wisdom  combined  with  power; 
and  thus  he  would  conceive  some  dark  idea  of  a  Being,  who  di- 
rected, in  some  distant  region,  the  existence,  the  duration,  the 
order  and  progress  of  all  inanimate  and  animated  nature.  The  idea 
fiVst  conceived  from  the  order  and  regularity  of  nature  would  be 
strengthened  by  every  extraordinary  occurrence;  and  the  passion 

"  Meduls  are  useful  in  explaining  events  which  have  been  left  doubtful  by 
the  iiistiirian,  and  they  record  many  facts  which  history  has  omitted.  Tiie  his- 
tory of  Piiliiiyr.i  would  have  been  almost  unknown  but  for  ihe  researches  of 
M.  Vaillant,  who,  from  the  e.vistinof  medals,  has  made  out  an  entire  chronicle 
of  the  kings  of  Syria.  Medals  are  likewise  eminently  useful  in  ilhistraling 
ancient  manners  and  customs;  in  preserving  the  figures  of  ancient  buildings, 
arms,  impleiuejits  of  tlie  arts,  modes  of  dress,  &c.:  not  to  mention  the  pleasure 
Ihev  convey  (a  pleasure  fuinded  in  the  most  natural  and  rational  curiosity)  in 
making  us  familiarly  acmiainted  with  the  features  of  the  great  men  of  antiquity. 
As  actual  monuments  onthe  fine  arts,  medals  are  entitled  to  great  estimation. 
The  sculptiirc  of  many  of  the  ancient  coins  is  superlatively  beautiful;  and  they 
are  supposed  to  exhibit  on  their  reverses  verv  exact  representations  of  celebrated 
•tatues  and  pnintinirs  of  antiquity  which  are  now  lost.  Tiiis  is  rendered  pr"b- 
able  from  the  beautiful  copies  which  we  find  on  some  of  those  coins  of  the  cele- 
brated statues  which  are  vet  preserved  ;  as  the  J'crnis  dr'  Mcdiri.  the  Ilrrculcs 
Farnesf,  and  the  Apollo  Belralere.  The  progress  of  sculpture  from  its  first  rude 
commencement  to  its  utmost  perfi-ction,  and  its  equally  sensible  corruption  and 
decline,  are  illustrated  by  the  bare  inspection  of  <he  regular  series  of  the  Greek 
and  Roman  coins. 


en.    III. J  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATIOXS.  29 

of  fear  combining  its  aid,  tlie  thnnder,  rlie  hnrrirane,  or  the  earth- 
quake would  be  interpreted  into  an  expression  of  the  wrath  of  this 
great  invisible  being;  whom,  therefore,  the  solitary  savage  would 
endeavor  to  appease  by  humiliating  himself  before  him,  by  sup- 
plicating his  clemency,  or  strive  to  gain  his  favor  by  praises  of 
his  beneficence.  Thus  an  untutored  human  creature,  merely  by 
the  operation  of  his  natural  passions  and  uninstructed  reason,  which 
teaches  that  every  effect  must  have  a  cause,  and  that  a  combined 
series  of  effects,  cooperating  to  a  wise  and  useful  end,  iniplios  wis- 
dom and  benevolence  in  the  cause,  would  arrive  at  the  first  great 
principles  of  religion.  But  before  conceiving  the  idea  of  a  Being 
utterly  imperceptible  to  his  senses,  a  savage  might  not  unnaturally 
seek  to  find  him  in  some  of  the  most  striking  objects  of  sense,  to 
which  he  owed  his  most  apparent  and  sensible  benefits.  Tlius  the 
sun,  whose  benignant  influence  is  perceived  to  extend  over  all  na- 
ture, and  whose  light  and  heat  are  apparently  the  immediate  cuusej, 
of  fecundity  of  nature  in  the  production  of  most  of  her  «orks — ■ 
was  the  first  object  of  worship  among  many  of  the  ancient  nations. 
The  element  of  fire  presented  a  symbol  of  the  sun,  as  possessing 
his  most  sensible  qualities,  and  believed  to  have  been  originally  a 
portion  of  his  substance.  The  moon,  the  stars,  whose  difstance 
removes  them,  like  the  sun,  from  any  positive  ascertainment  of 
their  nature,  while  at  the  same  time  the  regularity  of  then*  mo- 
tions conveys  to  the  rude  and  uninstructed  mind  some  idea  vf  a 
living  and  intelligent  principle  which  animates  them,  would  natur- 
ally attract  their  share  of  respect  and  adoration.  So,  in  like  man- 
ner, as  the  influence  of  some  of  those  superior  bodies  was  plainly 
perceived  to  extend  to  inferior  and  terrestrial  substances,  as  ui  the 
instances  of  the  tides,  monsoons,  and  alternation  of  the  seasons,  it 
was  a  most  natural  idea  to  conceive  that  all  the  phenomena  of  the 
universe,  in  the  production  and  per])etuation  of  men,  animals,  plants, 
&c.  were  to  be  referred  to  the  agency  of  those  superior  and  ruling 
powers. 

The  unity  of  a  Supreme  Being  is  an  idea  too  refined  for  the  rude 
and  uninstructed  mind,  which  cannot  easily  conceive  the  notion  of 
a  being  extending  his  influence  and  agency  at  the  same  momeni 
through  all  the  boundless  regions  of  space  and  upon  all  the  modifi- 
cations of  matter.  Hence  it  would  seem  probable  that  not  one, 
hut  several  divinities  were  concerned  in  the  formation,  and  sharci 
between  them  the  regulation,  of  the  universe. 

The  symbolical  mode  of  writing,  already  taken  notice  of,  is  like- 
wise a  probable  source  of  the  polytheism  and  idolatrous  supersti- 
tions of  many  of  the  ancient  nations.  In  the  rude  method,  ante- 
cedent to  writing,  of  communicating  ideas  by  painting,  if  it  was 
necessary  to  typify  a  god,  and  to  describe  his  attributes,  the  artist 
nad  no  other  resource  than  to  join  to  the  image  of  the  god  those 
animals  whose  qualities  were  most  expressive  of  his  attributes.  In 
the  hierogly]iliical  method  of  w  /ting  which  succeeded  to  that  of 
painting,   and   was  a   more  compendious  mode  of  communicating 


.10  UNIVERSAL    MISTOIIV.  ffiOOK     I 

ideas,  llio  animals  naturally  rarnc  to  stand  for  symbols  of  the  god 
liimsoif;  and  tlio  vulgar  and  iHitf-ratc  would  behold  in  those  ani 
mals  the;  figure  of  the  god,  which  the  wiser  and  more  leariK'd  knew 
to  be  only  typical  of  his  attributes.  As  it  was  observcrl  that  the 
same  god  was  sometimes  rcf)rescnted  by  different  animals,  the  no 
tion  would  naturally  arise  in  a  rude  mind,  that  this  god  occasionally 
transformed  himself  into  diflerent  shapes;  and  iience  sprang  the 
bclii'f  of  the  transmigrations  and  metamorphoses  of  the  gods. 

The  apotheosis  of  heroes,  and  the  divine  worship  paid  to  men 
who  had  rendered  eminent  services  to  their  country,  are  not  more 
dillirult  to  be  accounted  for.  The  homage  and  respect  paid  to  the 
chief  by  his  tribe  must  have  originated  with  society  itself.  The 
belief  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul — a  belief  which,  being  founded 
in  the  nature  of  the  human  mind  and  its  affections,  obtains  in  every 
period  of  society,  and  equally  among  the  most  barbarous  as  among 
the  most  refined  nations  of  the  earth — had  generally  this  concomi- 
tant idea,  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  are  employed  in  the  same  ac- 
tions and  pursuits  which  had  been  their  most  pleasurable  occupation 
in  life.  Hence,  as  the  heroic  chief  had  been  deservedly  honored 
for  his  actions  while  in  life,  it  was  natural  to  continue  those  honors 
after  his  death,  while  it  was  believed  that  he  still  extended  his 
shadowy  arm  over  his  faithful  tribe,  still  secretly  animated  them  in 
the  hour  of  danger,  and  was  the  unseen  witness  of  all  their  exploits 
in  the  career  of  glory.* 

It  is  unnecessary  to  pursue  this  subject  to  a  greater  length. 
Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  it  is  easy,  without  having  re- 
course to  fanciful  systems  or  labored  investigations  of  mythology, 
to  furnish  a  natural  account  of  the  origin  of  idolatry  and  polythe- 
ism. Many  excellent  reflections  on  this  subject  are  contained  in 
the  apocryphal  book  termed  the  AVisdom  of  Solomon;  a  book 
which  exhibits  a  profound  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  abounds 
in   the  most  excellent  precepts  of  morality.      On  the  absurdity  of 


•The  foIlnwinjT  just  and  beautiful  reflections  occur  in  a  letter  of  Dr.  Rundle, 
•)ishop  of  Derrv,  written  F'ebruarv,  1737,  oa  occasion  of  the  death  of  liis  I'riend  and 
patron.  Chancellnr  Talbot. 

''  It  was  the  love  for  such  benevolent  characters  which  first  dictated  to  every 
nntion  the  belief  of  the  inimnrtality  of  the  soul.  The  learned  expressed  this 
alfection  by  arjruinents  to  prove  the  truth  of  this  hope,  which  such  worthiness 
had  liorlited  up  in  their  hearts.  Rut  the  isrnorant  uttered  the  genuine  sentiments 
of  their  nature  by  worshippinir  those  benefactors  of  mankind,  as  soon  as  tliey 
withdrew  from  the  earth.  They  judired  tiiat  their  croodness  would  secure  them 
•n  interest  in  the  governor  of  llie  world,  and  recommend  lliem  to  his  love.  What 
he  loves  he  will  reward  in  the  manner  which  will  make  them  most  happy.  Kn- 
joying  the  desire  of  the  heart  is  tiie  sinccrest  felicity.  The  desire  of  their  souls 
was  always  to  make  others  virtuous  and  prosperous.  New  abilities  to  serve  those 
above  wlmm  they  delighted  to  bless  when  below,  they  imagined,  therefore,  the 
only  9uital)le  and  acreptable  reward  to  such  generous  natures.  Hence  they  corj- 
cluded  them  app(>inte<l  (juardians  over  their  kindred  people,  and  from  lamenting 
were  by  an  enlhtisiam  of  gratitude,  misled  to  worship  them.  A  love  of  merit  thus 
betrayed  them  into  error  and  superstition;  but  raelhinks,  virtue  herself  will  plead 
and  obtain  pardon  for  such  idolaters." 


CII      III.]  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY  NATIONS.  51 

soiiie  of  those  whimsical  mythologies,  and  even  of  their  pernicious 
tendency,  I  shall  afterwards  have  occasion  to  make  some  remarks, 
in  treating  of  the  earliest  periods  of  the  history  of  the  Greeks. 

Among  the  ancient  nations  we  find  the  priesthood  always  exer- 
cised by  the  chief  or  sovereign;  for  the  chief  must  have  presided 
m  the  performance  of  religious  worship,  because  he  presided  in 
every  thing.  But  the  sovereign  of  an  extensive  empire  was  ne- 
cessarily obliged  to  share  that  office  with  his  subjects,  and  to  ap- 
point a  certain  number  of  priests  to  officiate  in  his  room,  while  he 
himself  retained  the  function  of  supreme  pontiff.  Hence  arose 
that  connection  between  the  monarchy  and  the  priesthood  in  most 
of  die  ancient  kingdoms,  because  the  priests  considered  themselves 
as  the  deputies  of  the  prince.  The  respect  which  they  obtained 
from  that  character,  joined  to  the  reverence  for  their  sacred  func- 
tion, together  with  the  opinion  of  their  superior  knowledge  and 
learning,  naturally  made  the  illiterate  vulgar  submit  their  diiTer- 
ences  to  their  decision  as  umpires:  and  when  society  had  so  far 
advanced  that  there  was  an  a])proach  towards  a  system  of  legisla- 
tion, the  care  of  framing  the  laws  was  committed  to  th(i  priests; 
when  committed  to  writing  they  were  deposited  in  their  temples; 
and  from  their  order  the  first  tribunals  were  supplied  with  judges 
chosen  by  the  sovereign. 

We  may  presume  with  some  reason,  that  in  the  early  ages  the 
priests  were  among  the  first  who  cultivated  die  sciences.  The 
useful  arts  are  the  immediate  offspring  of  necessity:  and  in  the 
infancy  of  society,  every  individual,  according  as  he  feels  his 
wants,  is  put  to  the  necessity  of  exercising  his  talents  in  some 
rude  contrivances  to  supply  them.  The  skill  to  construct  instru- 
ments for  the  capture  or  destruction  of  animals,  or  for  offence  and 
defence  in  war,  is  found  among  the  most  barbarous  nations.  The 
rude  arts  of  forming  a  clothing  for  the  body,  and  the  constructions 
of  huts  for  shelter  against  the  inclemencies  of  the  air,  form  among 
such  nations  the  occupation  of  every  individual  of  the  tribe  or 
community,  and  even  of  both  sexes.  The  contrivances  of  sav- 
ages in  the  useful  arts  often  show  considerable  ingenuity.  The 
North  American  Indians,  having  no  iron,  use  stone  hatchets  in  cut- 
ling  down  the  largest  trees.  They  found,  says  Charlevoix,  in  his 
Travels  in  Canada,  a  very  hard  and  tough  species  of  flint,  which 
by  great  labor  they  sharpened  for  the  liead  of  the  instrument. 
The  difficulty  lay  in  fastening  it  to  the  handle.  They  cut  ofl'  the 
top  of  a  young  tree,  and  making  a  transverse  slit,  insert  the  stone 
into  the  opening.  The  parts  of  the  tree  growing  together  close 
so  firmly  upon  the  stone  that  it  is  impossible  to  move  it.  Then 
ihey  cut  the  tree  of  such  length  as  they  judge  sufficient  for  the 
handle. 

The  first  boats  were  hollowed  trunks  of  trees,  which  the  Creeks 
termed  monoxyla.  Where  trees  could  not  be  found  sulliciently 
large,  it  was  necessary  to  join  planks  together:  and  sometimes  the 


32  f.MVERSAL    HISTORT  [bOOK   I 

thick  and  plialjle  l>ark  of  trees,  sewed  together  with  the  sinews  of 
animal".,  formed  a  light  canoe.  The  strticliire  and  shape  of  these 
vessels  were  in  imitation  of  the  form  of  a  fish.  Tl)e  head  or  prow 
was  siiarp  and  coniral;  a  movable  plank  in  the  stern  imitated  the 
action  of  a  fi-li's  tail,  and  the  oars  or  paddles  srved  the  purpose 
of  the  fins  in  giving  motion  to  the  body;  such  canoes  are  u.sed  to 
this  day  among  the  North  American  Indians. 

The  President  Goz'.iet  has,  with  much  ingenuity  and  industry, 
collected  a  great  ma=5  of  information  relative  to  the  origin  of  tlie 
arts  among  tlie  nations  of  antiquity;  and  to  his  learned  work  I 
refer  the  reader  who  wishes  further  light  on  those  topics. 

The  art  of  agriculture  is  not  practised  till  society  is  considerably 
advanced,  and  individuals  have  obtained  a  determined  share  in  tha 
properly  of  the  lands  which  they  inhabit.  It  had  its  origin  there- 
fore in  those  countries  which  are  by  nature  most  fertile,  and  which, 
producing  abundance  of  food,  made  the  inhabitants  stationary,  as 
they  had  no  incitement  to  roam  in  quest  of  subsistence.  The 
early  historians  attribute  the  origin  of  agriculture  to  kings;  as  to 
Menes  or  Osiris  among  the  Egyptians,  and  Fohi  among  the  Chi- 
nese: the  meaning  of  which  is  no  more  than  this: — that  the  first 
sovereigns,  who,  with  their  nation  or  tribe,  occupied  a  fruitful  coun- 
try and  became  stationary  in  it,  establishing  such  regulations  re- 
garding property  in  land  as  would  secure  individuals  ifi  their  pos- 
sessions, mturally  gave  rise  to  the  experiments  of  such  proprietors 
to  fertilize  their  grounds,  to  till,  to  sow,  reap  and  store  up  their 
fruits,  which  a  wandering  savage  would  never  think  of  or  attempt. 

But  while  the  useful  arts  are  the  offspring  of  necessity,  and  are 
therefore  in  some  degree  known  and  practised  in  the  earliest  pe- 
riods of  society,  the  sciences,  on  the  other  hand,  are  less  the  pro- 
duction of  necessity  than  of  ease  and  leisure.  Before  the  origin 
of  the  sciences,  society  must  have  made  great  progress.  They  pre- 
supposed au  extensive  and  populous  community,  where  individuals 
have  either  acquired  such  opulence  from  the  successful  cultivation 
of  the  arts,  or  from  commerce,  as  to  allow  them  the  indulgence  of 
that  ease  and  immunity  from  labor  which  invites  to  study  and 
speculation;  or  they  must  have  been  maintained  for  special  pur- 
poses by  the  sovereign  or  by  the  community  in  such  a  situation 
This  la.st  was  the  condition  of  the  priests;  and,  accordingly,  we  find 
that,  among  the  Egv-ptians,  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  early  civi- 
lized nations,  the  priests  were  the  deposiiaries  of  all  the  sciences. 
Aristotle  informs  us  that  the  Eg}-ptian  priests  consumed  the  great- 
est part  of  their  lime  in  abstract  studies;  and  when  Herodotus 
Diodorus,  or  Plato  relate  any  fact  with  regard  to  the  sciences  in 
Egypt,  they  always  inform  us,  that  they  received  it  from  the 
mouths  of  the  priests.  Among  the  Babylonians  too,  the  Chal- 
daans  or  Chaldees,  who  were  their  priests,  and  formed  a  body  dis- 
tinct from  the  rest  of  the  people,  were  chiefly  occupied  in  the 
study  of  the  sciences.     The  name   C'/iaW(Efln,  occurring  very  fre 


Cn.    in./  STATE    OF    THE    EARLY    NATION'S  .»  » 

quentiy  in  Scripture  as  synonyinoiis  with  soothsayer^  shows  the 
nature  of  tliose  sciences  which  they  chiefly  cultivated.*  It  is 
not  at  all  improbable  that  the  frivolous  and  absurd  science  of  judi- 
cial astrology,  which  has  its  origin  in  ijie  prevailing  passion  ot  the 
uninstructed  mind  to  dive  into  futurity,  was  the  first  motive  that 
led  men  to  the  attentive  observation  of  the  motions  of  the  heaven- 
ly bodies  :  and  consequently  that  superstition  was  \}\e  parent  of 
that  useful  and  sublime  science  of  astronomy. f  It  is  certain  that 
to  those  Chaldaeans  or  soothsayers  the  best  informed  authors  of 
antiquity  have  joined  in  attributing  the  first  astronomical  discove- 
ries. According  to  Diodorus,  they  had  observed  the  motion  ol 
the  planets  ;  they  had  divided  the  zodiac  into  twelve  signs,  anu 
each  sign  into  thirty  degrees  ;  and  they  had  ascertained  the  precise 
length  of  the  year  very  near  to  the  truth. 

As  an  attention  to  their  own  preservation  is  the  first  care  of 
mankind,  we  may  naturally  conjecture,  that  among  those  sciences 
to  which  in  the  early  nations  men  would  chiefly  devote  their  at- 
tention, that  of  medicine  would  have  a  principal  place.  All  sa- 
vage nations  have  a  pharmacy  of  their  own,  equal  in  general  to 
their  wants.  Luxury  creating  new  diseases  requires  a  jirofounder 
knowledge  of  medicine  and  of  the  animal  economy.  Savages  are 
often  eminently  skilful  in  the  knowledge  of  the  virtues  of  plants  in 
the  cure  of  diseases,  and  are  very  dexterous  in  the  treatment  o!" 
wounds.  But  without  the  knowledge  of  the  internal  structure  of 
the  body,  medicine  can  hardly  deserve  the  name  of  a  science. 
And  we  are  certain  that  anatomy  could  only  have  been  practised 
in  an  advanced  state  of  society,  when  arts  had  attained  a  consider- 
able degree  of  perfection.  The  Jews,  we  know,  in  the  days  of 
Moses,  used  in  some  operations  of  surgery  a  sharp  stone  instead 
of  a  knife  ;  a  certain  proof  that  they  could  not  have  dissected  a 
human  body.  AikI  although  the  Egyptians  practised  very  early 
the  evisceration  and  embalming  of  bodies,  we  hear  nothing  of  any 
attempts  at  anatomy  till  the  age  of  the  Ptolemies,  after  the  time 
of  Alexander  the  Great,  when,  as  we  learn  from  Pliny,  those  mo- 
narcjis  established  a  medical  school  at  Alexandria,  and  commanded 
dead  bodies  to  be  dissected,  for  the  improvement  of  medicine  and 
surgery  ;  a  circumstance  which  seems  to  indicate  that  it  was  at 
that  time  a  new  practice. — But  of  the  arts  and  sciences  of  this 
remarkable  people,  the  Egyptians,  as  well  as  of  their  government, 
laws,  and  manners,  I  propose  to  treat  more  particularly  in  the  next 
chapter. 


*  Alllioncrh  Clinldtra  is  the  appropri;vle  name  of  that  retjion  of  Assyria  in 
winch  IJaliylon  was  situated,  the  term  Chaldican  was  used,  not  only  in  Seriptu"c 
but  bv  the  aiinient  profane  authors,  to  denote  an  astroloi^rr  or  sootfunn/rr. 

\  Kepler  remarks,  that  astrolocry  is  the  foolish  daughter  of  a  wise  ni'ither'. 
'let  >t  is  more  prohahle  that  the  orenealojjy  was  just  the  reverse, — and  that  the 
n'lne  d.atighter  sprang  from  the  foolish  moUier. 

VOL.   I  5 


34  UNIVEUSAI.    HISTORY 


CHAPTER   IV. 


Or  THE  Egvptjans — Early  Civilization — Tnunrlatirin  of  tlie  Nile — Govern 
niiMit  — F/aus — Manners — Arts — Obelisks  ond  I'yramids — Sciences — Phiioso- 
|>hii:al  Opinions — Character. 

TuF,  Egyptians  are  so  remarkable  a  people,  and  boast  of  such 
extraordinary  progress  in  civilization  and  in  the  arts,  while  the  rest 
of  the  world  was  comparatively  involved  in  darkness  and  igno- 
rance, that  their  early  history  deservedly  claims  a  preferable  share 
of  attention  to  any  of  the  cotemporary  nations  of  antiquity.  It  is 
highly  probably  too,  that  from  this  people,  as  from  a  focus  of  illu- 
mination, most  of  the  European  nations  have,  by  the  natural  pro- 
gress of  knowledge,  received  a  great  part  of  their  instruction  both 
in  the  arts  and  in  the  sciences.  The  Egyptians  instructed  and 
enlightened  the  Greeks  ;  the  Greeks  performed  the  same  benefi- 
cial office  to  die  Romans,  who,  in  their  turn,  instructing  the  na- 
tions whom  they  conquered  or  colonized,  have  transmitted  the 
rudiments  of  that  knowledge  which  the  industry  and  the  genius  of 
the  moderns  are  continually  extending  and  advancing  to  perfec- 
tion. 

It  is  probable  that  the  Egyptians  were  among  the  most  early 
civilized  of  the  nations  of  the  earth  ;  and  hence  arises  some  ex- 
cuse for  that  vanity,  which  they  possessed  in  common  with  most 
nations,  of  attributing  to  themselves  a  most  prodigious  antiquity. 
In  the  chronicles  recorded,  or  more  probably  fabricated  by  Mane- 
tho,  the  Egyptian  monarchy  had  subsisted  before  his  time  (300 
years  a.  c.)  for  more  than  100,000  years.  Laying  little  weight 
on  such  extravagant  computations,  we  may  conclude  with  some 
reason,  that  at  least  they  were  a  very  ancient  and  early  civilized 
people.  It  is  evident  from  the  books  of  Moses,  that  in  the  time 
'.f  Abraham,  about  4-30  years  after  the  flood,  Egypt  was  a  popu- 
lous country,  the  scat  of  a  very  splendid  and  well-regulated  mon 
archy.  In  the  days  of  Jacob,  we  see  further  proofs  of  its  civil! 
zation  :  the  kingdom  divided  into  departments  or-  municipalities  ; 
ministers  for  state-affairs,  with  whom  the  sovereign  held  council  ; 
prisons  for  the  confinement  of  criminals,  which  argues  a  system  of 
penal  laws  properly  enforced  ;  a  priesthood  enjoying  settled  reve- 
nues ;  a  trade  in  slaves — all  these  circumstances  indicate  a  grea 
advancement  in  civilization,  and  a  proportional  antiquity. 

M.  Voltaire,  who  is  frequently  more  fanciful   tlian  judicious  ic 


CH.   IV.]  EGYPT  35 

nis  conjectures,  and  gives  too  much  scope  to  theory  in  his  historical 
writings,  is  inclined  to  question  the  common  opinion  of  the  anti- 
qiiity  of  the  Egyptian  nation;  and  imagines  that  the  country  of 
Egypt  was  not  peopled  till  the  neighboring  African  or  Arabian 
iribes  had  made  such  advancement  in  agriculture  and  in  the  arts, 
as  to  regulate  and  turn  to  their  advantage  those  periodical  inunda- 
tions of  the  Nile,  which,  says  he,  must  have  rendered  that  coun- 
try uninhabitable  for  four  months  in  the  year.  But  here  the  theory 
is  at  variance  with  the  facts.  The  periodical  inundation  of  the 
Nile  originally  extended  over  a  very  narrow  tract  only  of  the  coun- 
try of  Egypt,  nor  wore  its  benefits  at  all  considerable,  till  the  art 
and  industry  of  the  people,  by  intersecting  the  adjacent  lands  with 
numberless  canals,  and  making  large  reservoirs  in  the  upper  coun- 
try to  let  down  the  water  through  these  canals,  contrived  to  spread 
the  inundation  over  a  much  greater  extent  of  ground  than  it  would 
naturally  have  covered.  There  never  were  any  efforts  made  to 
restrain  those  mundations,  which  the  Egyptians  justly  considered 
as  their  greatest  blessing,  and  the  source  of  their  country's  fer- 
tility. All  their  endeavors,  on  the  contrary,  were,  and  are  at 
this  day,  to  extend  their  effects  over  as  great  a  portion  of  the 
land  as  possible.  So  far,  therefore,  from  any  argument  arising 
from  the  nature  of  this  country  against  the  antiquity  of  its  popu- 
lation, a  very  strong  argument  thence  arises  in  favor  of  that  anti- 
quity; for,  where  nature  had  done  so  much  in  fertilizing  the 
banks  of  a  fine  river,  and  an  easy  method  presented  itself  of  ex- 
tending that  fertility  over  all  the  level  country,  it  is  probable  that 
there  men  would  first  form  stationary  settlements,  and  the  art  of 
agriculture  be  first  practised,  where  nature  so  kindly  invited  them 
to  second  her  operations  by  art  and  industry. 

And  here  it  may  be  incidentally  remarked,  that  the  cause  of 
the  periodical  inundation  of  the  Nile  has  been  satisfactorily  ex- 
[)lained  by  Pliny  (Nat.  Hist.  1.  v.  cap.  9),  and  nearly  in  similar 
terms  by  Dr.  Pococke.  The  north  winds,  says  this  writer,  which 
begin  to  blow  about  the  end  of  May,  drive  the  clouds  formed  by 
the  vapors  of  the  Mediterranean  to  the  souilnvard,  as  far  as  the 
mountains  of  Ethiopia,  where,  being  stopped  in  their  course,  and 
condensed  on  the  summits  of  those  mountains,  they  fall  down  in 
violent  rains,  which  continue  for  some  months.  The  same  winds 
likewise  sensibly  increase  the  inundation  in  the  level  country  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  by  driving  in  the  water  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean. The  increase  of  the  river  necessary  to  produce  a  season 
of  fertility  is  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  cubits.  If  the  waters  do 
not  rise  to  fourteen,  according  to  the  Nileometer,  which  is  a  stone 
pillar  erected  on  the  point  of  an  island  in  the  river  between  Geeza 
and  Cairo,  it  is  accounted  a  season  of  scarcity,  and  the  inhabitants 
have  a  proportional  abatement  of  their  taxes;  if  they  rise  to  six 
teen  cubits,  there  is  generally  an  abundant  harvest.  We  have 
already  observed  that,  without   the    aid  of  art,  these    inundation* 


36  UNIVERSAL     HISTORT  [noOK  I 

would  !)(•  confined  to  a  narrow  portion  of  the  country,  and  in  that 
case  tlio  lieiglit  of  the  flood  would  be  more  prejudicial  than 
serviceable.  It  is  by  the  regulation  and  distribution  of  the  waters 
by  moans  of  numberless  canals,  which  extend  to  a  considerable 
rlistance,  that  the  benefit  of  the  periodical  floods  is  rendered 
£oneral.  AVhcn  the  inundation  has  attained  its  height,  as  marked 
jy  the  Nilcometer,  a  proclamation  is  made  for  the  opening  of 
these  canals;  and  they  are  likewise  shut  by  a  similar  order  of  gov- 
enmient  when  the  season  of  irrigation  is  over. 

The  earliest  accounts  of  the  Egyptians  mention  them  as  living 
under  a  monarchical  government;  and,  as  in  most  monarchies, 
the  crown,  probably  at  first  elective,  had  soon  become  hereditary. 
The  power  of  the  sovereign,  however,  if  we  may  credit  the 
accounts  of  ancient  authors,  who,  in  the  history  of  this  people, 
have  in  many  things  palpably  dis|)layed  both  exaggeration  and 
lalsehood,  was  admirably  limited  by  the  laws,  which  even  went 
so  far  as  to  regulate  the  stated  employments  of  the  prince  during 
all  the  hours  of  the  day.  These  notions,  it  must  be  owned,  are 
not  easily  reconcileable  with  the  ideas  w^hich  the  same  authors 
give  of  the  despotic  authority  of  those  princes;  of  the  luxury 
and  splendor  in  which  they  lived;  the  superstitious  veneration 
that  was  paid  to  their  persons;  and  the  abject  slavery  in  which 
the  lower  ranks  of  the  people  were  kept,  whom  the  sovereigns, 
for  the  gratification  of  their  own  vanity,  employed  in  the  severest 
'abor  in  constructing  those  immense  fabrics  which  seem  to  have 
oeen  reared  for  no  other  end  tiian  to  excite  the  wonder  of 
posterity. 

The  cares  both  of  civil  government  and  of  religion  seem  in 
Egypt  to  have  been  committed  to  the  same  hands.  Besides  the 
ordinary  offices  of  government,  a  principal  part  of  the  duty  of  the 
monarch  was  the  regulation  of  all  that  regarded  religion.  The 
priests,  on  the  other  hand,  who  formed  a  very  numerous  bodv, 
and  had  a  third  part  of  the  lands  allotted  to  them  in  proj)ertv, 
were  not  confined  to  the  exercise  of  religious  duties,  but  filled 
the  highest  offices  in  the  state.  They  had  the  custody  of  the 
public  records;  it  was  their  province  to  impose  and  levy  the 
taxes;  to  regulate  weights  and  measures;  and  out  of  their  order 
were  chosen  all  the  magistrates  and  judges. 

The  supreme  national  tribunal  in  Egyj)t  was  composed  of  thirty 
judges;  ten  from  each  of  the  three  principal  cities  of  Heliopolis, 
Thebes,  and  Memphis;  and  to  these  judges  a  solemn  oath  was 
administered  on  their  entry  upon  office,  that  even  the  commands 
of  their  sovereign  should  not  sway  them  in  the  execution  of  their 
duty.  The  administration  of  justice  was  no  burden  on  the  sub- 
jects; the  tribunals  were  open  to  all  ranks  of  the  people,  without 
expense  of  any  kind;  as  no  professional  advocates  were  employed 
for  the  pleading  of  causes,  and  the  judges,  whose  business  it  was 
to  investigate  and  do  justice,  were  supported  at  the  expense  of 


CH.    IV.]  EGYPT.  *>* 

the  State;  a  regulation  having  a  considerable  show  of  wisdom  if 
obtaining  in  a  small  state  at  an  early  period  of  society,  but  evi- 
dently not  adapted  for  an  extensive  and  highly  civilized  commu- 
nity. 

The  penal  laws  of  Egypt  were  remarkably  severe.  Whoever 
had  it  in  his  power  to  save  the  life  of  a  citizen,  and  neglected  that 
duty,  was  punished  as  his  murderer;  a  law  which  we  must  pre- 
sume admitted  of  much  limitation  according  to  circumstances.  It 
appears  to  have  been  from  the  same  motive  of  preserving  the  lives 
of  the  citizens,  that  if  a  person  was  found  murdered,  the  city 
within  whose  bounds  the  murder  had  been  committed  was  obliged 
to  en)balm  the  body  in  the  most  costly  manner,  and  bestow  on  it 
the  most  sumptuous  funeral.  Perjury  was  justly  held  a  capital 
crime;  for  there  is  no  offence  productive  of  more  pernicious  con- 
sequences to  society.  Calumniators  were  condemned  to  the  same 
punishment  which  the  calumniated  person  either  had  or  might 
have  suffered,  had  the  calumny  been  believed.  The  citizen  who 
was  so  base  as  to  disclose  the  secrets  of  the  state  to  its  enemies, 
was  punished  by  the  cutting  out  of  his  tongue;  and  the  forger  of 
public  instruments  or  private  deeds,  the  counterfeiter  of  the  current 
coin,  and  the  user  of  false  weii:;hts  and  measures,  were  condemned 
to  have  both  their  hands  cut  off.  The  laws  for  the  preservation 
of  the  chastity  of  women  were  extremely  rigid:  emasculation  was 
the  punishment  of  him  who  violated  a  free  woman,  ajid  burning 
to  death  was  the  punishment  of  an  adulterer. 

The  President  Goguet  ranks  among  the  penal  laws  of  the 
Egyptians  a  singular  regulation  of  policy  which  is  mentioned  by 
Diodorus.  It  is  generally  known  how  much  the  ancients  con- 
cerned themselves  with  regard  to  the  disposal  of  their  bodies  after 
death.  To  be  deprived  of  funeral  rites  they  considered  as  one  of 
the  greatest  calamities.  The  Egyptians  did  not,  like  most  other 
nations,  consign  the  bodies  of  the  dead  to  destruction;  they  pre- 
served them  by  embalming,  and  celebrated  their  obsequies  with 
extraordinary  solemnity.  But  these  fune  al  honors  were  never 
bestowed  unless  in  virtue  of  a  solemn  and  judicial  decree.  A 
^ourt  com|)osed  of  forty  judges  granted  their  warrant  for  every 
niuf-Mal.  The  character  of  tlie  deceased  was  rigorously  investi- 
gated, and  if  any  criminal  or  improper  conduct  was  proved,  the 
customary  honoi's  were  refused  to  him.  If  his  life  had  been  vir- 
tuous and  exempt  from  all  blame,  a  public  panegyric  was  pro- 
nounced on  his  memory,  and  permission  was  granted  for  the  usual 
embalming  and  obsequies.  The  most  singular  and  at  the  same 
time  the  most  admirable  circumstance  attending  this  custom,  was, 
that  the  sovereigns  themselves,  though  venerated  during  their  lives 
with  an  almost  superstitious  regard,  which  forbade  all  scrutiny  into 
their  actions,  were  yet  after  death  subjected  to  the  same  rigorous 
and  Miipartial  inquest  with  tlie  meanest  of  their  subjects;  and 
Diodorus  assures  us  that  some  of  the   Egvptian  kings  had  been 


428343 


^S  UNIVr.RSAI,    HISTORV.  [bOOK    I 

deprived  of  funeral  obsequies,  and  tlieir  memories  tlius  consigned 
In  iiifainv,  by  ihe  judgment  of  tbat  solemn  tribunal. 

Among  llic  most  remarkable  laws  of  ibe  Egyj)tians  was  lliat  of 
Amasis,  wliicli  ordained  every  individual  to  appear  annually  beforfl 
a  particular  magistrate,  and  give  an  account  of  bis  profession,  and 
ibe  manner  iu  wbicli  be  acquired  bis  subsistence.  A  cajjital 
punisl'iment,  it  is  said,  was  decreed  against  tbc  person  wbo  could 
not  sbow  that  he  procured  bis  living  by  bonest  means.  We  sball 
observe  a  similar  institution  in  treating  of  tbe  Athenian  republic. 
Tbe  unnecessary  contracting  of  debts  was  likewise  restrained  in 
Eg}pt  by  a  singular  and  very  laudable  regulation.  Tbe  debtor 
was  obliged  to  give  in  pledge  the  embalmed  body  of  bis  father,  to 
remain  wiih  the  creditor  till  the  debt  was  discliarged.  He  who 
died  without  redeeming  this  sacred  pledge  was  deprived  himsolf 
of  funeral  obsequies. 

The  population  of  Egypt  was  encouraged  by  many  salutary 
laws.  The  exposing  of  infants  was  restrained  by  the  severest 
penalties.  A  man  was  obliged  to  rear  and  educate  not  only  the 
cliildrcu  born  to  him  in  a  state  of  marriage,  but  to  acknowledge 
for  legitimate,  and  maintain,  all  the  children  he  had  by  his  slaves 
or  concubines.  Homicide  was  punished  with  death,  even  when 
committed  on  a  slave. 

The  manners  of  the  Egyptians  were  very  early  formed.  We 
find  the  greatest  part  of  those  customs  which  are  mentioned  by 
Diodorus,  Herodotus,  and  others  of  the  ancient  historians,  to  have 
been  common  at  the  time  when  Joseph  was  carried  into  Egypt. 
This  people,  according  to  the  testimony  of  all  antiquity,  discovered 
a  great  constancy  of  national  character,  and  a  singular  attachment 
to  their  ancient  manners  and  customs.  But  these  underwent  a 
remarkable  change  in  the  time  of  Psammeiicus,  who  began  to 
reign  in  Egypt  670  years  before  the  Christian  era.  This  prince 
opened  the  ports  of  Egypt,  both  on  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Red 
Sea,  to  all  strangers,  and  gave  particular  encouragement  to  the 
Greeks  to  settle  in  his  dominions.  He  assigned  them  portions  of 
land  in  die  country,  employed  some  learned  men  among  them  to 
instruct  the  Egyptian  youth  in  the  Greek  language,  and  endeavored 
bv  every  means  to  overcome  that  illiberal  prejudice  which  b.ad 
hitherto  kept  this  people  sequestered  from  all  other  nations.  Such, 
likewise,  was  the  policy  of  Amasis,  who  reigned  about  a  century 
after  Psammeticus,  and  who,  as  he  may  properly  be  considered  the 
last,  so  he  was  one  of  the  wisest  and  the  best  of  the  Egyptian 
monarchs.  It  was  in  the  reign  of  bis  son  Psammenitus  that 
Cambyses  overturned  this  ancient  monarchy,  and  reduced  Egypt 
into  a  province  of  the  Persian  empire.  But  here  we  are  antici- 
pating the  order  of  events.  It  is  the  strte  of  Egypt,  the  attam- 
ments  and  the  manners  of  the  nation  before  its  conquest  and 
reduction,  tbat  we  are  at  present  considering. 

We   must  regard  the   ancient   Egyptians  as  the   earliest  nation 


en.  IV.]  F.GVPT  39 

whom  history  assures  us  with  certainty  to  Iiave  made  any  progiess 
in  those  arts  which  conduce  to  the  luxuries  or  elegancies  of  life. 
They  understood  very  early  the  use  of  metals,  both  in  the  fabrica- 
tion of  serviceable  utensils,  in  ornamental  decorations,  and  in  the 
coining  of  money  as  a  medium  of  commerce.  Of  this  we  have 
abundant  evidence  both  from  the  sacred  and  jirofane  historians. 

The  science  of  archi;ecture  was  early  brought  to  great  perfec- 
tion in  Egypt.  The  antiquity  of  those  immense  structures  which 
yet  remain  in  that  country  is  extremely  uncertain.  It  seems 
peculiar  to  the  climate  of  Egypt,  that  time  appears  scarcely  to 
make  any  sensible  impression  on  those  monuments  of  human 
industry.  The  cause  is  plausibly  assigned  by  De  JMnillet,  in  his 
Description  de  VEgijpU.  Rain  and  frost,  says  that  author,  which 
in  other  countries  are  the  destroyers  of  all  the  works  of  art  which 
are  exposed  to  the  air,  are  utterly  ifnknown  in  Egypt.  The 
structures  of  that  country,  its  pyramids  and  its  obelisks,  can 
sustain  no  injury  unless  from  the  sun  and  wind,  which  have  scarce 
any  sensible  effect  in  wasting  or  corroding  their  materials.  Some 
of  the  Egyptian  obelisks,  which  are  supposed  to  be  more  ancient 
than  the  pyramids,  and  consequently  above  3000  years  old,  are 
entire  at  this  day  :  one  in  particular  may  be  seen  at  Rome,  which 
was  trans])orted  thither  by  Augustus,  and  which  Pliny  says  was 
supposed  to  be  older  than  the  time  of  Scsostris.  Those  immense 
masses,  consisting  of  one  entire  block  of  granite,  were  hewn  in  the 
quarries  of  Upper  Egypt,  whence  they  were  conveyed  by  water 
to  the  place  where  they  were  to  be  erected.  The  contrivance  for 
transporting  them  is  described  by  Pliny,  and  is  equally  simple  and 
ingenious.  The  Nile  runs  near  to  the  base  of  those  mountains 
where  the  quarries  are  situated.  A  canal  was  cut  from  the  river 
to  the  spot  where  the  obelisk  lay,  and  made  to  pass  under  it,  so 
as  to  leave  the  stone  supported  by  its  two  extremities  resting  on 
either  bank  of  the  canal.  Two  broad  boats  were  then  loadeil  with 
a  great  weight  of  stones,  so  as  to  sink  them  so  deep  in  the  water 
as  to  allow  them  to  pass  freely  under  the  obelisk  :  when  imn>e- 
diately  under  it,  the  stones  were  thrown  out  ;  the  boats,  of  conse- 
quence, rose  in  the  water,  and  bore  up  the  obelisk,  which  thus 
passed  along  the  canal  into  the  Nile,  and  was  thence  guided  by 
other  canals  to  the  place  where  it  was  to  be  erected.  Of  the 
purpose  for  which  these  obelisks  were  reared  we  can  onlv  form 
conjectures,  as  the  ancient  writers  give  us  no  information.  It  has 
been  supposed  that  they  were  intended  to  serve  as  gnomons  for 
astronomical  purposes,  or  to  determine  the  length  of  the  solar  vear 
by  the  measure  of  the  meridian  sharlows  :  but  their  situation  upon 
uneven  ground,  and  the  number  of  them,  sometimes  three  or  four 
erected  in  the  same  place,  give  no  countenance  to  that  idea.  Plinv 
indeed  tells  us  that  one  of  the  Egyptian  obelisks  which  w^s  brought 
to  Rome  and  placed  in  the  Campus  Martins,  was  ajiplicvl  by 
Augustus  to  serve  the  purpose  of  a  gnomon  to  an  innnense  sun- 


40  UNIVf.USAI.    IIISTOUV.  [llOOK   I 

ilial,  whiili  was  cngravLMi  on  a  level  pnvciiunit  of  stone  at  the  base 
of  tlie  obelisk  ;  but  as  be  terms  this  a  new  and  admirable  use  of 
the  obelisk,  we  must  tbonce  infer  that  it  was  dillerent  from  their 
orij;inal  purpose,  which  was  probably  to  rommemorate  or  record 
eitiier  |)ublic  events  in  the  history  of  the  nation,  or  to  be  registers 
of  the  seasons  as  allected  by  the  periodical  inundations  of  the 
Nile. 

The  whole  country  of  Egypt  abounds  with  the  remains  of 
ancient  maiiiiificence.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  that  Thebes, 
in  Ui)per  Kgypt,  was,  at  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war,  one  of  the 
most  oi)ulent  and  best-peopled  cities  in  the  universe.  The  ancient 
authors  assure  us  that  no  city  in  the  world  ecpiallcd  it  in  orna- 
mental buildings.  Diodorus  mentions  in  particular  four  temples, 
the  largest  and  most  ancient  of  which  remained  at  the  tinie  when 
he  himself  was  in  Egypt  (about  a.  d.  20)  and  was  half  a  league 
in  circumference.  Its  hundred  gates  mentioned  by  Homer,  which 
could  each  send  out  200  horsemen  and  chariots,  is  a  bold  poetical 
exaggeration;  but  if  the  ruins,  yet  visible  at  Luxor,  as  described 
by  Pococke,  Granger,  and  later  travellers,  are,  as  they  have  been 
generally  supposed,  the  remains  of  Thebes,  they  give  very  high 
ideas  of  the  extent  and  magnificence  of  that  ancient  city. 

The  pyramids  in  the  neighborhood  of  Memphis  have  been  by 
some  authors  assigned  to  the  age  of  Sesostris;  but  this  era,  which 
is  itself  extremely  uncertain,  is,  according  to  all  probability,  much 
too  early  for  the  date  of  those  structures.  There  is  ground  to 
Delie\e  that  they  did  not  exist  in  the  age  of  Homer;  for  that  poet, 
who  frequeiitly  mentions  Egypt,  and  is  fond  of  relating  singulari- 
ties of  that  country,  says  nothing  of  the  pyramids,  and  makes  no 
mention  of  Memphis,  though  that  city  lay  in  the  direct  way  to 
Thebes.  Artstotle  has  made  this  observation;  and  it  has  hence 
been  inferred,  with  much  probability,  that  in  the  age  of  Homer 
those  stupendous  fabrics  cither  did  not  exist  or  were  but  just 
building.  Homer,  according  to  the  most  probable  authorities, 
lived  about  900  years  B.  c.,  which  brings  the  date  of  the  pyramids, 
if  then  building,  nearly  to  the  age  assigned  them  by  Diodorus. 
But  neither  the  age  nor  the  builders  of  those  structures  are  known 
with  any  degree  of  certainty;  a  just  reward,  as  Pliny  well  reniarks, 
of  the  vanity  of  such  undertakings. 

The  description  of  those  remarkable  monuments  has  been  given 
by  many  travellers.  A  more  curious  investigation  would  be  to 
discover  the  manner  in  which  those  immense  piles  were  reared,  as 
well  as  the  j)urpose  for  which  thev  were  erected.  The  first, 
however,  does  not  fall  within  the  province  of  a  work  of  this  nature: 
I  content  myself,  therefore,  with  observing,  that  the  PresitkMit 
Goguet,  in  his  Origin  of  Laws,  vol.  iii.,  has  given  a  very  plausible 
and  curious  account  of  the  construction  of  the  pyramids,  resting 
chiefly  on  the  authority  of  Herodotus,  to  which  I  refer  tbe  reader.' 
On  the  second*  head,  it   may  be    remarked,   that   the  Egyptians 


CII.    IV. J  EGYPT  41 

entertained  the  belief  lliat  deatli  did  not  sejjarate  the  soul  from  the 
body,  but  that  the  connection  remained  as  long  as  the  latter  con- 
tinued entire  and  unconsumed.  It  was,  therefore,  their  utmost 
care  to  preserve  the  carcasses  of  the  dead  from  the  natural  decay 
from  corruption,  as  well  as  from  accidental  violence.  Hence  the 
practice  of  embalming  the  dead,  and  of  depositing  them  in  jjlaces 
secured  from  all  injury.  The  bodies  of  the  rich  were  preserved 
at  a  vast  expense  by  taking  out  the  corruptible  viscera,  filling  the 
cavity  with  the  strongest  and  most  costly  spices  and  unguents, 
wrapping  them  round  in  numberless  folds  of  linen,  impregnated 
with  resinous  substances,  incrusting  them  with  thick  coats  of  paint, 
and  lastly,  casing  them  in  thick  boxes  of  die  most  durable  species 
of  wood.  The  bodies  of  the  inferior  classes  of  the  people  were 
simply  injected  with  some  composition  which  exsiccated  the  en 
trails  and  fleshy  parts,  and  were  covered  over  by  a  cheaper  and 
simpler  process,  with  some  resinous  substance  which  excluded  the 
air.  From  a  custom  already  mentioned,  regarding  the  pledging 
of  these  mummies  as  a  secuiity  for  debts,  it  would  appear  that  it 
was  the  practice  to  keep  them  unburied  at  least  for  the  course  of 
one  generation.  After  that  period,  they  were  deposited  in  caverns, 
dug  in  dry  and  rocky  situations,  of  which  they  concealed  the 
entrance  with  the  utmost  care  and  artifice  of  construction.  The 
sovereigns,  who  could  command  the  labors  of  their  subjects, 
thought  they  could  not  employ  them  better  than  in  building  such 
repositories  for  their  bodies  after  death  as  should  be  jiroof  against 
the  injuries  of  time,  and  even  in  some  measure  set  human  malice 
at  defiance;  for  the  demolition  of  a  pyramid,  considering  the 
immense  blocks  of  stone  of  which  it  is  formed,  would  be  a  work 
attended  with  such  labor  and  difficulty,  that  no  ordinary  motive 
could  prompt  to  it.* 


*  The  larirest  of  the  pyramids  is  an  equilateral  square,  of  which  each  side 
measures  at  li>c  base  (iiKJ  r>nglish  feet.  The  stones,  of  which  it  is  composed, 
are  many  of  them  'M)  feet  in  lenirth.  4  in  heiirht,  and  3  in  l)readth.  Tiie  super 
ficial  contents  of  tiie  area  are  4c((.'.i4!)  feet,  or  somethinir  more  than  II  Ena^lish 
acres.  The  heifrjit  of  the  pyramid  is  4dl  feet,  which  is  about  the  height  of  the 
top  of  the  cupola  of  St.  Paul's  church  in  I,oiid.)n.  It  rises  from  the  t>:ise  to  the 
apex  in  steps  of  near  4  feet  in  heiirht,  and  the  summit  is  a  square  |)latform  of  13 
feet,  composed  of  10  or  I'i  massy  stones.  This  form  of  constructiim  in  tlie 
manner  of  steps  was  probably  given  to  the  building  that  it  might  receive  a' 
coaling  of  marble,  by  laving  upon  each  step  a  block  of  a  j)rism!itical  form, 
.vhich  would  thus  brinir  tiie  exterior  of  tlie  building  to  a  smooth  surface,  which 
is  the  appearance  of  most  of  the  smaller  pyrami<ls  at  this  day.  A  late  traveller, 
Mr.  Bruce,  has  hence  formed  a  new  opinion  with  regard  to  the  construction  of 
those  masses.  It  is  his  notion  tiiat  they  have  been  formed  out  of  innnense 
insulated  rocks,  which  stood  iipim  the  spot ;  and  which,  r.fter  having  been 
hewn  into  a  pyramidal  form,  were  iucrusted  or  coated  over  wiih  a  niason-work 
of  marble  or  stone.  This  idea,  if  just,  wuuld  render  the  construction  of  those 
vast  piles  considerably  easier,  and  more  within  the  compass  of  hinuan  industry, 
than  the  common  opinions  regarding  the  mode  of  their  fabrication.  "  It  liaa 
been  a  constant  belief,"  says  Mr.  Bruce,  "  that  the  stones  coui|)osing  those 
pyramids  have    been  brought   from   the   Libyan  mountains}    although  any  one 

VOL.     I.  6 


i%  UMVi;i!SAL    IIIMOIIV.  [book    I 

1 1  imisl  he  allow  <;(i,  thai  tlioso  momiiiioiUs  wliicli  remain  [o  us 
of  tho  works  of  art  among  llie  Egyptians,  ilioii^li  vtMKMahle  on 
account  of  tlit.'ir  anticjuity,  and  sometimes  exiiihiting  a  grand  and 
sublime  appearance  from  their  immensity,  are  extremely  defective 
in  beauty  and  eh.'gancc.  How  infinitely  inferior,  in  point  of  taste, 
are  the  pyramids,  the  obelisks,  the  s|)hynx  and  colossal  statues, 
the  pillars  of  Luxor,  to  the  simj)lest  remains  of  the  ancient  temple-j 
in  Greece!  In  architecture,  one  of  the  most  obvious  inventions, 
and  one  of  the  greatest  improvements,  both  in  point  of  utility  and 
beauty,  the  construction  of  an  arch,  was  quite  unknown  to  the 
Egyptians.  This  defect  gives  an  awkward  and  heavy  appearance 
to  their  buildings,  and  must  have  occasioned  a  vast  expense  of 
labor,  which  might  otherwise  have  been  spared.  In  the  arts  of 
painting  and  sculpture,  those  specimens,  of  which  a  vast  number 
liave  remained  entire  to  our  days,  are,  in  general,  greatly  deficient 
in  elegance  and  beauty.  In  the  Egyptian  statues,  we  may  observe 
a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  human  proportions,  but  without  any 
capacity  in  the  artist  to  give  to  his  figures  animation  or  action. 
We  may  remark,  in  general,  with  regard  to  the  remains  of  the  arts 
in  Egypt,  that  they  either  occasion  surprise  from  their  immensity, 
and  the  jirodigious  labor  and  cost  emploved  in  their  construction, 
or  are  objects  of  curiosity  on  account  of  the  very  early  period  at 
which  they  were  executed;  but,  considered  as  objects  of  taste, 
they  alTord  but  a  small  degree  of  pleasure  to  the  critical  eye. 

As  the  Egy[)tians  were  more  early  acquainted  than  any  other 
nations  of  anticjuity  with  the  useful,  and  even  the  elegant  arts, 
they  were  no  less  en)ineut  for  their  early  cultivation  of  the  sci- 
ences. The  arts  and  sciences  are  indeed  so  intimately  connected, 
that  there  can  be  no  great  progress  in  the  one,  without  a  propor- 
tional advancement  in  the  other;  as  for  example,  architecture, 
which  requires  a  knowledge  of  geometry  and  the  laws  of  mechan- 
ics; the  working  of  metals,  dyeing,  which  presuppose  an  acquaint- 
ance with  chemical  principles.  "When  we  see,"  says  Millot, 
'"  the  Egyptians  surveying  their  lands  with  precision,  distributing 
the  waters  of  the  Nile  by  numberless  canals,  measuring  with 
exactness  the  increase  of  the  river,  making  and  employing  various 
species  of  machinery,  measuring  time,  and  calculating  the  revolu- 
tions of  the  stars,  we  must  suppose  them  to  have  attained  a  con- 
siderable proficiency  in  the  science  of  mathematics.     The  Egyp- 


who  will  take  the  pains  to  remove  the  sand  on  tlic  south  side,  will  there  find 
tlie  sohd  rock  hewn  into  steps.  And  in  the  roof  of  the  large  chanilwr,  where 
the  sarropharriis  stands,  as  also  in  the  top  of  the  roof  of  the  ffnllerv.  as  you  go 
np  into  the  chainlM  r,  you  see  larsre  fraffinonls  of  the  rock  ;  atiordiiiir  an  unan- 
fWerable  proof,  that  th.>se  pyramids  were  once  huge  rocks,  standing  where 
they  now  are  ;  that  some  of  tht-m,  tho  most  proper  from  their  form,  were  chosen 
for  liie  body  of  the  pyramid,  and  the  others  hewn  down  into  steps,  to  serve  for 
the  superstructure,  and  the  exterior  parts  of  them." — Bruce' s  Travels  inU 
Egij}>t  ""</  ."iliyssinta,  vol.  i. 


CH.   IV."]  EGYPT.  ^  43 

tians  understood  the  division  of  the  zodiac  into  twelve  signs., 
which  argues  a  considerable  advancement  in  astronomy.  They 
were  able  to  calculate  both  solai  and  lunar  eclipses.  Thales,  who 
owed  all  his  astronomical  knowledge  to  the  Egyptians,  predicted 
that  famous  eclipse  of  the  sun  585  years  before  the  Christian  era, 
which  separated  the  armies  of  the  Medes  and  Lydians  at  the 
moment  of  an  engagement.  The  position  of  the  pyramids,  most 
exactly  corresponding  to  the  four  cardinal  points,  is,  not  without 
reason,  urged  as  a  proof  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Egyptians  in 
astronomy;  for  it  requires,  even  at  present,  no  mean  knowledge 
in  that  science  to  trace  a  meridian  line  with  perfect  accuracy.  It 
is  probable,  loo,  that  the  Egyptians  had  an  idea  of  the  mation  of 
the  earth,  since  Pythagoras,  who  has  given  plain  intimations  of 
that  opinion,  is  known  to  have  acquired  his  astronomical  knowledge 
in  that  country." 

I  have  already  taken  notice  of  the  very  limited  knowledge 
which  the  Egyptians  possessed  of  medicine  till  the  age  of  the 
Ptolemies,  when  an  anatomical  school  was  founded  at  Alexandria. 

With  regard  to  their  philosophical  opinions,  ihey  maintained 
themselves  so  mysterious  a  silence,  and  the  accounts  of  those  few 
of  the  ancients  who  were  admitted  to  a  knowledge  of  their  mys- 
teries are  so  obscure  and  imperfect,  that  it  is,  at  this  day,  scarcely 
])Ossible  to  attain  to  any  distinct  ideas  regarding  either  their  moral, 
physical,  or  theological  doctrines.  On  the  one  hand,  it  seems  a 
plain  inference,  that  if  the  morality  taught  by  the  priests  was  not 
more  pure  than  what  was  practised  by  the  people,  the  Egyptians 
would  certainly  merit  on  that  score  no  encomium.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  must  conclude,  that  if  the  moral  doctrines  of  Pythagoras 
and  of  Plato,  who  both  studied  in  Egypt,  were  learned  in  that 
school,  their  speculative  opinions  were  right,  whatever  we  may 
judge  of  their  practice.  In  theology,  too,  while  the  superstitious 
worship  of  the  common  people  was  so  grossly  absurd  as  to  draw 
on  them  the  ridicule  of  all  other  nations,  the  secret  doctrines  of 
the  jiriests  are  generally  allowed  to  have  been  pure,  refined,  and 
rational.  One  Great  Intelligence  was  sup])oscd  to  preside  over 
all  nature.  Subordinate  spirits,  portions  of  that  Intelligence,  pre- 
sided over  the  actions  of  mankind,  as  the  guardians  of  the  human 
soul,  which  was  derived  from  the  same  divine  original,  but  was 
destined  to  undergo  a  certain  number  of  transmigrations  through 
(lifFerent  bodies,  before  it  was  reunited  to  the  great  parent-spirit. 
They  believed  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  Diodorus  tells  us 
that  they  esteemed  the  present  state  of  existence  to  be  of  no  value 
in  comparison  with  that  which  was  to  come,  and  which  was  to  be 
the  rewnrd  of  a  life  spent  in  this  world  in  the  practice  of  virtue. 

The  Egyptians  sujiposed  the  material  world  to  iiave  aiison  from 
the  joint  oj)eration  of  three  principles.  The  first  was  the  Great 
Intelligence  or  universal  spirit — the  nnima  mundi — which  gives 
form  to  the  universe  and  to  all  its  parts.     The  second  was  Matter 


44  UNIVKKSAI-     HISTORY.  [dOOK  L 

uliicli  iliey  siiiiposod  to  have  existed  from  all  eternity.  The 
third  was  the  Nature  of  that  Matter,  which,  from  its  imperfection, 
opposed  that  t^ood  which  the  universal  spirit  always  aimed  at  ])ro- 
diicing,  and  frequently  contaminated  his  works  with  evil.  To 
these  three  princi|)Ies,  in  their  inyiholoj^y,  they  gave  the  a])pella- 
tions  of  Osiris,  Isis,  and  Typhon.  Tlie  priests  illustrated  thc-se 
radical  doctrines  by  numberless  allegories  and  fables,  which,  bemg 
literally  received  by  the  vulgar,  produced  a  thousand  absurdities 
in  their  worship  and  opinions,  while  the  real  meaning  was  known 
but  to  a  k\v. 

We  have  seen  in  the  Egyjitians,  a  people  remarkable  for  their 
early  civilization — for  the  anti(juity  of  their  government,  the  sys- 
tematic order  of  their  civil  pohcy,  the  wisdom  of  many  of  their 
laws,  and  their  singular  progress  in  the  arts — at  a  period  when 
almost  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  sunk  in  ignorance  and 
barbarism.  It  must,  therefore,  without  doubt,  appear  extraordinary 
that,  with  all  these  advantages,  the  character  of  this  people  was 
held  extremely  low,  and  even  despisable  among  the  contemporary 
nations  of  antiquity.  This  peculiarity  may,  j)erha])s,  be  traced 
up  to  a  single  cause.  They  were  a  people  who  chose  to  seques- 
ter themselves  from  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  obstinately  or  fastid- 
iously refused  all  correspondence  with  other  nations.  They  were 
not  known  to  them  by  their  conquests;  they  had  no  connection 
with  ihem  by  their  commerce;  and  they  had  a  rooted  antipathy 
to  the  manners,  and  even  to  the  persons  of  all  strangers. 

To  illustrate  the  preceding  observation:  the  Egyptians,  proper- 
ly speaking,  were  never  a  military  people.  The  foreign  conquests 
of  Sesostris  have  been  much  vaunted  by  some  of  the  ancient  his- 
torians, and  have  in  part  at  least,  obtained  credit  with  some  of  the 
moderns.  It  may,  perhaps,  appear  a  blamable  degree  of  skepti- 
cism to  doubt  the  reality  of  those  distant  expeditions  of  Sesostris 
altogether;  yet  for  three  reasons  I  should  incline  to  that  opinion. 
The  first  is,  that  such  expeditions  must  have  required  such  exten- 
sive armaments  as  the  country  of  Egypt  at  no  period  of  its  history 
could  ever  have  furnished.  The  army  of  Sesostris  which  he  led 
into  Asia  ii  said  to  have  amounted  to  000,000  foot,  24,000  horse, 
nnd  27,000  armed  chariots:  a  force  which  it  may  be  boldly  aver- 
red is  ten  times  beyond  what  the  narrow  territory  of  Egypt  could 
ever  have  maintained  or  equipped.  Secondlv,  no  reasonable  mo- 
tive could  urge  a  sovereign  of  Egypt  to  adopt  such  projects  of 
conquest,  to  which  the  national  character  of  his  people  and  their 
extraordinary  prejudices  must  have  ofiered  the  strongest  resistence. 
And,  lastly,  it  has  never  been  pretended  that  the  Egyptians  gain- 
ed the  smallest  accession  of  territory,  or  derived  any  advantage 
whatever  from  those  prodigious  conquests.  In  every  authentic 
period  of  their  history,  the  character  of  this  African  people  has 
been  feeble  and  unwarlike.  Tliey  had  a  strong  turn  to  the  arts  of 
peace;    and  sought  to  provide  for  that  security  which  is   favorable 


CH.   IV.]  EGYPT.  43 

to  ihem,  by  keeping  on  foot  a  pretty  numerous  militia,  for  dcfenco 
in  case  of  invasion  from  other  nations ;  but  even  this  with  little 
effect,  for  they  were  successively  subdued,  and  enslaved  oy  almost 
all  the  predominant  powers  of  antiquity. 

With  regard  to  any  intercourse  with  other  nations  by  commerce, 
the  Egyptians  had  so  little  genius  of  that  sort,  that  while  tlie  Red 
Sea  was  left  open  to  all  the  maritime  nations  who  chose  to  frequent 
it,  they  would  not  suffer  any  of  those  foreign  vessels  to  enter  an 
Egyj)tian  port.  They  had  no  ships  of  their  own,  for  their  coun- 
try produced  no  timber  fit  for  the  construction  even  of  the  small 
boats  employed  in  navigating  the  Nile,  which  obliged  them  to  use 
baked  earth  for  that  purpose,  and  sometimes  reeds  covered  with 
varnish.  They  held  the  sea  in  detestation,  from  a  religious  preju- 
dice, and  they  avoided  all  intercourse  with  mariners.  We  may 
judge,  then,  with  what  probability  the  ancient  waiters  tell  us  of 
the  naval  armament  of  Sesostris,  consisting  of  400  long  ships  of 
war.  Whence  came  the  timber,  whence  the  skill  to  construct 
them,  and  whence  the  mariners  to  navigate  them.'' 

Towards  the  decline  of  the  Egyptian  monarchy,  the  sovereigns 
of  that  country  began  to  j)ay  some  attention  to  commerce.  Boc- 
choris,  who  reigned  about  G70  years  before  the  Christian  era,  pub- 
lished, as  Diodorus  informs  us,  some  very  wise  laws  relative  to 
that  object ;  and  in  this  he  was  imitated  by  some  of  the  succeed- 
ing princes.  Psammeticus,  who  lived  about  a  century  after  him, 
encouraged  foreign  nations  to  resort  to  the  Egyptian  ports,  and 
allowed  some  Greeks  to  form  commercial  settlements  upon  the 
coasts.  Nechos,  his  successor,  with  the  same  view,  attempted  the 
renewal  of  a  project,  which  is  said  to  have  been  first  conceived  by 
Sesostris,  of  joining  the  Red  Sea  with  the  Mediterranean  by  a 
canal  from  one  of  the  branches  of  the  Nile  ;  but  this  great  work 
was  not  completed  till  400  years  afterwards,  by  Ptolemy  Phila- 
delphus.*  The  genius  of  Nechos  was  extremely  opposite  to  the 
general  character  of  his  people.  He  is  said  to  have  equipped  a 
fleet  on  the  Red  Sea,  which  he  w^isely  manned  widi  Phcenician 
navigators,  with  instructions  to  circumnavigate  the  continent  of 
Africa,  a  voyage  which  we  are  told  they  accomplished  in  three 
years  ;  a  fact,  which,  considering  the  period  of  time  (610  b  c.,) 
we  need  not  add,  is  altogether  incredible. 

The  singularity  of  the  Egyptians  with  respect  to  manners,  and 
their  obstinate  attachment  to  customs  and  practices,  many  of  them 
repugnant  to  reason  and  the  ordinary  feelings  of  mankind,  con 
tributed  more  than  any  other  cause  to  draw  on  them  the  aversion, 
and  excite  the  ridicule  of  other  nations.  Tiiey  had  not  only,  as 
already  remarked,  an  antipathy  to  all  strangers;  but  some  of  their 


"  A  part  of  tins  canal  is  still  visible,  running  from  Cairo  to  the  norlh-i^ast  of 
the  Berkelel-Hadj,  or,  Like  of  tlie  Pilgrims,  where  it  loses  itself. 


46  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [noOK    I 

••(•giilatidns  sfem  calculated  to  encourage  political  di-ijiiifjn,  am 
dislike  to  each  oilier.  All  professions  in  Ei;:;ypt  were  hereditary  , 
a  piece  of  j)olicy  which  has  received  from  some  authors  mu(  h  en- 
comium, hut  which  deserves  much  more  to  be  condemned  than 
applauded.  If  (he  same  disj)ositions  and  the  same  talents  descend- 
ed invariably  from  father  lo  son,  we  might  agree  with.  M.  Bossuet 
in  holding  it  presumable,  that  men  would  execute  in  greater  per- 
fection what  they  had  always  seen  done,  and  what  had  been  their 
sole  employment  from  iid'ancy;  but  daily  experience  shows  that 
neither  taI'Miis  nor  inclinations  are  invai'iably  hereditary,  and  there- 
fore the  argument  is  I'ulilc.  But  not  only  were  all  professions 
hereditary  among  this  people;  die  rank  and  dignity  of  each  was 
most  scrupulously  settled,  nor  could  any  eminence  of  merit,  or  of 
fortune,  entitle  an  individual  to  higher  respect  or  honor  than  what 
belonged  to  the  meanest  of  his  class ;  a  policy  repressive  of  all 
emulation,  and  of  that  generous  ambition  on  which  every  species 
of  excellence  depends  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  was  a  fertile 
source  of  jealousy,  animosity,  and  disunion. 

Another  species  of  the  most  pernicious  policy  among  the  Egyp- 
tians, which  contributed  not  only  to  render  them  contemptible  to 
other  nations,  but  to  foment  discords  among  themselves,  was  the 
variety  and  difierencc  of  the  objects  of  religious  worship  in  the 
different  provinces  of  the  kingdom.  The  same  animals  that  were 
regarded,  in  one  province,  with  the  most  superstitious  reverence, 
were,  in  another,  the  objects  of  detestation  and  abhorrence.  In 
one  quarter,  they  tamed  the  crocodiles,  adorned  them  with  gold 
and  jewels,  and  worshipped  them  ;  in  another,  they  killed  those 
animals  without  mercy.  In  one  province,  the  most  sacred  animal 
was  a  dog  ;  in  another,  they  reckoned  dog's  flesh  the  most  delicate 
food.  Cats  were  adored  in  one  district,  and  rats  in  another.  From 
these  differences  arose  perpetual  and  violent  animosities  ;  for  there 
are  no  contentions  so  rancorous  as  those  w  hich  spring  from  the  most 
trifling  differences  in  religious  worship  or  opinion.  "  The  multi- 
tude," says  Diodorus,  "have  been  often  inflamed  into  the  highest 
pitch  of  fury,  on  account  of  the  sacrilegious  murder  of  a  divine 
cat.'' 

The  extravagant  length  to  which  the  Egyptians  carried  theii 
veneration  for  their  consecrated  animals  exceeds  all  belief.  The 
sacred  crocodile,  the  dog,  or  the  cat,  were  kept  in  an  enclosed 
space  set  apart,  adjoining  to  the  temples  dedicated  to  their  worship. 
They  were  constantly  attended  by  men  of  the  highest  rank,  whose 
business  was  to  provide  them  in  the  choicest  victuals,  which  they 
were  at  pains  to  dress  in  the  manner  they  supposed  most  agreea- 
ble to  their  palate.  They  washed  them  in  warm  baths,  and  anoint- 
ed them  with  the  richest  perfumes.  The  finest  carj^ets  were 
spread  for  them  to  lie  on  :  chains  of  gold  and  circlets  of  precious 
stones  were  hung  around  their  legs  and  necks  :  and  when  the  stu- 
pid animal,  insensible  of  the  honors  that  were  bestowed  on  him, 


CH      IV.]  EGYPT.  47 

filed  like  ihe  rest  of  his  kind,  the  whole  province  was  filled  with 
lamentation;  and  not  only  the  fortunes  of  the  priests,  but  the 
public  revenue  was  withont  scruple  expended  in  the  performance 
of  the  most  sumptuous  funeral  obsequies. 

It  is  not  then  to  be  wondered  that  the  superstitions  of  the  Egyp- 
tians w^ere  a  copious  subject  of  ridicule  to  other  nations  of  antiqui- 
ty, and  contributed  to  degrade  them  in  the  opinion  of  those  whost 
objects  of  religious  worship,  if  not  fundamentally  more  rational, 
were  less  ludicrous,  less  childish  and  unmanly.  What  could  th<=^y 
think  of  a  nation,  where,  as  Herodotus  tells  us,  if  a  house  was  on 
fire,  die  father  of  a  family  would  take  more  pains  to  save  his  cats 
than  his  wife  and  children;  where  a  mother  would  be  transported 
with  joy  at  the  news  of  her  child  being  devoured  by  a  crocodile; 
or  where  the  soldiers,  returning  from  a  military  expedition,  would 
come  home  loaded  with  a  precious  booty  of  dogs,  cats,  hawks,  and 
vultures .'' 

The  general  character  of  the  Egyptians,  with  respect  to  morals, 
contributed  likewise  to  draw  upon  them  the  disesteem  ol  other 
nations.  They  have  been  generally  accused  by  the  ancients  of 
great  cunning  and  insincerity  in  their  dealings.  The  term 
'Jiyvnieu'iet.v  ^to  play  the  Egyptian,)  was  proverbially  used  by  die 
Greeks  to  signify  cozening  and  overreaching.  The  contempt 
they  expressed  for  strangers  naturally  stamped  them  with  the 
character  of  a  vain  and  insolent  people.  Pliny,  in  his  Panegyric 
on  Trajan,  terms  them  ventosa  et  insolens  natio.  With  respect  to 
modesty  and  decorum,  their  manners  were  shamefully  loose.  In 
the  festivals  in  honor  of  their  gods,  they  committed  such  indecen- 
cies, that  Herodotus,  Diodorus,  and  others  of  the  ancient  writers, 
not  over  delicate  themselves,  have  expressed  a  reluctance  to  enter 
into  particular  details. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  may  sum  up  in  a  few  words  the  character 
of  the  Egyptians.  They  were  a  peoj)le  remarkable  for  their  early 
civilization,  and  for  the  systematic  arrangement  of  their  govern- 
ment and  civil  policy;  though  many  of  their  particular  institutions 
and  usages  were  extremely  faulty  and  impolitic.  Their  early 
subjection  to  laws,  and  their  acquaintance  with  the  arts  and  scien- 
ces, attracted  the  admiration  of  other  nations,  who,  at  first,  inferior 
to  them  in  those  particulars,  and  instructing  themselves  from  their 
acquirements,  came  afterwards  to  outstrip  them  very  far  in  the 
same  departments.  Their  contemptible  vanity,  which  persuaded 
tiiem  that  they  had  attained  in  every  thing  the  summit  of  excel- 
lence, and  their  disdaining  lo  borrow  from  or  imitate  the  practices 
of  other  nations,  sufilcicndy  account  for  the  small  degree  of  im- 
provement in  those  arts  and  sciences  of  which  they  were  the 
inventors,  and  for  their  never  advancing  beyond  the  point  of  me- 
diocrity. The  character  of  their  mind  was  feeble;,  they  had  no 
emulation,  no  ardor  of  enterprise,  no  ambition  of  extending  their 
dominion  over  nations  whom  they  despised,  or  of  holding  inter- 


48  r.Nivr.r.sAi,  iii«touy.  [riooK    i, 

course  with  iliciii  in  llie  way  of  coniinercc.  The  hatred  .nrid  con- 
leinpt  which  they  eiiicrlained  for  others  was  returned  tenfold  uj)on 
iheniselvcs,  for  there  is  no  debt  so  certainly  and  so  liberally  repaid 
as  contempt;  and  hence  we  niciy  reasonably  suspect  exaggeration  in 
the  picture  which  the  ancient  writers  iia\  e  drawn  of  their  manners 
and  morals.  Under  the  influence  of  this  caution,  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  describe  them  with  iujpartiality,  and  believe  I  have  as 
signed  them  as  much  merit  as  ihey  truly  deserve.  I  shall  remark, 
in  its  proper  place,  the  strong  resemblance  which,  in  many  points, 
they  bear  to  an  Asiatic  nation,  known  to  Europeans  only  in  mod- 
ern times — I  mean  the  Chinese. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Of  the    Pii.CiNiciANs — Alphabetic  Writing — Sanchoniatho — Navigation — Tyre 


Among  the  ancient  nations  who  first  showed  a  considerable  degree 
of  civilization  and  advancement  in  the  useful  arts,  the  Phoenicians 
deserve  j)articular  notice.  It  seems  to  rest  on  as  good  authority 
as  can  be  brought  for  the  origin  of  any  of  the  useful  arts,  that  it  is 
to  this  eastern  people  that  the  world  is  indebted  for  the  invention 
of  wridng,  and  for  the  first  attempts  at  conmiercial  navigation.  I 
do  not  think  the  hypothetical  reasoning  of  M.  de  Voltaire  has 
much  weight  when  he  argues  that  this  people,  being  the  earliest 
nation  which  practised  commerce,  must  have  first  found  the  expe- 
diency of  using  certain  arbitrary  characters  for  the  purpose  of 
carrying  on  their  traffic,  and  keeping  regular  accounts.  The  Mex- 
icans and  Peruvians  were  acquainted  with  navigation,  and  practised 
commerce,  and  were,  in  other  respects,  highly  polished  and  refin- 
ed; yet  they  knew  nothing  of  writing.  The  fact  of  the  Phogni- 
cians  having  very  early  attained  to  the  use  of  writing  seems  to 
lest  on  better  evidence  than  hypothetical  reasoning.  It  seems  to 
be  agreed  among  the  best  informed  writers,  that  the  fragments  of 
Sanchoniatho,  though  their  antiquity  has  been  vaunted  by  Por- 
phyry and  Philo  considerably  beyond  the  truth,  are  yet  to  be  re- 
garded as  the  composition  of  the  earliest  of  the  profane  writers, 
and  of  a  much  more  ancient  date  than  any  works  of  a  Greek  au- 
thor. Sanchoniatho  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been  contempo- 
rary with  Joshua,  who  died  1443  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ, 


CH.   v.]  THE    PHCENICIAXS.  49 

and  about  500  years  before  the  cities  of  Attica  were  united  under 
Theseus.  What  remains  of  the  works  of  this  author  are  some 
fragments  preserved  by  Eusebius,  which  were  translated  from  the 
Phoenician  language  into  Greek  by  Philo  of  Byblos.  They  give 
an  account  of  the  genealogy  of  tlio  Phoenician  gods;  of  Ccekis 
and  of  Saturn,  and  other  deities  afterwards  adopted  by  the  Greeks; 
and  of  the  cosmogony  or  origin  of  the  world ;_ — accounts  which 
Sanchoniatho  says  he  collected  from  the  most  ancient  historical 
monuments.  The  authenticity  of  these  fragments  has  been  ques- 
tioned, and  they  have  been  supposed  to  have  been  forged  by  Por- 
phyry from  enmity  to  the  Christian  religion,  and  a  desire  to  show 
that  the  pagans  could  boast  of  writings  of  equal  antiquity  with  the 
Books  of  Moses.  But  it  has  been  well  observed,  in  answer  to 
this  supposition,  that  if  Porphyry,  or  any  other  person,  had  made 
the  forgery  for  such  a  purpose,  they  would  not  have  fabricated  a 
mass  of  nonsense  and  absurdity,  which  would  throw  ridicule  and 
ilisgrace  on  any  system  it  was  meant  to  support.  Holding  those 
fragments,  therefore,  as  authentic,  they  prove  that  alphabetic  wri- 
ting was  in  use  among  the  Phoenicians  many  ages  before  the 
Greeks  had  the  smallest  acquaintance  with  it.* 

To  the  Phoenicians,  all  antiquity  has  joined  in  attributmg  the 
invention  of  navigation;  or,  at  least,  it  seems  an  agreed  point 
that  they  were  the  earliest  among  the  nations  of  antiquity  who 
made  voyages  for  the  sake  of  commerce.  The  Canaanites  (for  it 
is  by  that  name  that  the  Phoenicians  are  known  in  Scripture)  were 
a  powerful  people  in  the  days  of  Abraham.  Their  situation, 
occupying  a  narrow  country  on  the  eastern  coast  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  confined  on  all  quarters  towards  the  land  by  the  sur 
rounding  tribes,  naturally  induced  them  to  turn  their  attention  to 
navigation.  In  the  days  of  Abraham,  we  learn  with  some  cer- 
tainty that  they  had  sailed  to  the  coast  of  Greece;  for  Inachus, 
whose  daughter  To  they  carried  off  from  that  country,  is  generally 
supposed  contemporary  with  Abraham.  When  we  come  down  to 
the  time  of  the  Hebrew  Judges,  we  find  the  Phoenicians  so  far 
advanced  as  a  commercial  people  as  to  be  able  to  send  colonies 
to  distant  quarters,  and  to  form  settlements  for  trade  both  on  tlie 
European  and  Asiatic  coasts.  Among  their  first  settlements  weio 
those  of  Cyprus  and  Rhodes.  They  then  passed  into  Greece, 
into  Sicilv,  and  Sardinia,  and  thence  into  the  soufhein  parts  of 
Spain.  They  did  not  confine  their  voyages  to  the  Mediterranean 
Sea,  but,  passing  the  straits,  established  themselves  in  the  Isle  of 
Gades,  and  built  a  settlement  anciently  named  Gadir,  now  Cadiz. 
Stretching  southwards  from    the  straits,   they  formed  settlements 


"See  GojTuet'a  elaborate  Dissertation  on  the  Ori<iin  of  Alphabetic  Writing, 
"  Oriw.  dps  Loix,"  t.  i.  1.  ii.  c.  vi. ;  and  a  Dissertation  on  Sanchoniatho,  bv  th« 
tame  atithor,  annexed  to  the  first  volume  of  the  same  work. 

vol,.    I.  7 


M  LNIVF.RSAL    HISTOUy.  [nooK    I 

likewise  on  i!ie  western  coast  of  Africa.  Strabo  informs  us  that 
they  h;ul  made  tliosc  settlements  a  short  time  after  the  Trojan 
war. 

Sidon  and  ancient  Tyre  were  among  the  most  illustrions  of  the 
cities  of  anti(|uily.  Tlie  latter  owed  its  origin  to  a  colony  of  the 
former,  and  docs  not  seem  to  have  existed  in  the  days  of  Homer, 
who  makes  fre()ncnt  mention  of  Sidon,  bnt  says  nothing  of  Tyre 
In  the  book  of  Joshna,  Sidon  is  denominated  tke  great;  and  the 
triumph  of  the  Israelites,  under  that  illustrious  leader,  which  dis- 
|)ersed  the  Sidonians,  was  probably  the  occasion  of  their  founding 
the  city  of  Tyre,  and  transplanting  themselves  likewise  into  dis- 
tant colonies.  Among  these,  the  most  illustrious  was  Carthage, 
whicj)  came  afterwards  to  be  the  most  formidable  rival  of  the 
Roman  power;  and  which,  of  all  the  nations  whom  they  finally 
subdued  and  overwhelmed,  was  the  only  one  which  had  seriously 
threatened  their  own  destruction. 

Carthage  was  founded  by  Dido,  the  daughter  of  Belus,  king  of 
Tyre,  SG9  years  before  Christ,  and  117  before  the  foundation  of 
Rome  by  Romulus.  The  outlines  of  its  history  we  shall  afterwards 
briefly  consider,  when,  in  the  course  of  the  Roman  history,  we 
come  to  treat  of  the  Punic  wars. 

Ancient  Tyre  seems  to  have  risen  to  very  great  splendor  within 
a  short  time  from  its  foundation,  and  to  have  surpassed  its  parent 
state  in  opulence  and  extensive  commerce.  From  the  writings  oi 
Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  Ezekiel,  and  the  other  prophets,  we  must  judge 
that  it  was  in  their  time  one  of  the  greatest  and  wealthiest  cities 
of  the  universe;*  and  the  profane  historians  accord  in  this  respect 
wiih  the  sacred.  Its  prosperity,  however,  was  of  no  long  dura- 
tion. The  city  was  besieged  in  the  year  5S0  before  Christ,  by 
Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  and  after  a  most  obstinate  re- 
sistance was  taken  in  the  thirteenth  year  of  the  siege,  and  utteily 
destroyed  by  the  conqueror.  The  greatest  part  of  the  inhabitants 
had  saved  themselves  by  flight  during  this  protracted  war;  and 
diey  built  afterwards  the  city  of  New  Tyre  on  an  island  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  site  of  the  ancient;  a  city  which  rivalled 
the  former  in  magnitude  and  splendor,  and  the  capture  of  which, 
by  Alexander  the  Great  (33J  B.  c.,)  after  a  siege  of  seven  months, 
was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  exploits  of  that  mighty  conqueror. 

The  Tyrians  were  extremely  industrious  in  the  practice  of  many 
of  the  uselul  arts.  They  carried  the  working  of  metals  to  greai 
jierfection.  The  magnificence  of  the  temple  of  Hercules  at  Tyre 
IS  celebrated  by  Herodotus,  (1.  ii.,  cap.  xliv.)  who  saw  it,  and 
who  was  particularly  struck  with  two  columns,  one  of  molten  gold 


•Tsaiah  wrotp  TCvS  years  b.  c,  Jrremiah  about  2(X)  years  afterwards;  Ezrkiel 
proplipsifd  about  :">!>.'>  b.  c.  See  Kzek.  c  xxvii.  and  xxviii.,  where  the  wealih 
and  commerpe  of  Tyre  are  described  in  very  glowinjr  colors,  and  tlie  par 
iiculars  of  iu  trade  and  manufactures  minutely  specified 


CH      VI. J  THE    GREEKS.  51 

and  the  other  of  emerald,  which  in  the  night-time  rhone  with  great 
splendor.  The  latter  was  probably  of  colored  glass,  as  we  have 
ihe  authority  of  Pliny  for  attributing  to  the  Phoenicians  the  inven- 
tion of  the  making  of  glass;  and  M.  Goguet  conjectures,  with 
some  plausibility,  that  the  column  was  hollow,  and  was  lighted  by 
a  lamp  put  within  it.  Tlie  Tyrian  purple  is  celebrated  by  all  the 
ancient  authors.  The  color  was  the  pure  juice  of  a  particular 
kind  of  shell-fish,  and  being  produced  in  very  small  quantities, 
came  thence  to  be  of  great  value.  The  moderns  are  not  unac- 
quainted with  the  fish,  but  make  no  use  of  it,  as  a  richer  color  "3 
produced  at  much  less  expense  from  the  cochineal  insect. 

The  Tyrian  merchants  were  probably  the  first  who  imported  to 
the  Mediterranean,  and  thence  into  Europe,  the  commodities  ol 
India.  They  wrested  from  the  Idumeans  some  commodious  ports 
upon  the  Arabian  Gulf,  from  which  they  had  a  regular  intercourse 
with  India;  and  having  occupied  Rhinocorara  in  the  Lower 
Egypt,  which  is  the  nearest  port  in  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Ara- 
bian Gulf,  they  had  a  short  and  commodious  land  carriage  for 
their  Indian  merchandise,  till  it  was  thence  re-shipped,  and  con 
^'eved  to  Tyre.* 


CHAPTER   VI. 


The    Grecian    History. — Earliest    period    of    the    History    of    Grocco — The 
Titans — Cecrnps — Chronicle    of    Paros — Areopagus — Dchijre  of    Deucalion- 
Council  of  the  Ainpliictyons — Cadmus — Introduction  of  Letters. 

The  History  of  Greece  presents  to  an  inquisitive  mind  a  various 
and  most  instructive  field  of  speculation;  and  happily,  from  that 
period  when  its  annals  become  truly  important,  its  history  has  been 
written  by  very  able  authors.  The  early  antiquities  of  this  coun- 
try are,  it  is  true,  so  disguised  with  fables,  thai  it  is  extremclv  dif- 
ficult to  discover  the  truth.  Yet,  in  order  to  understand  and  |)rofit 
by  the  classical  writers,  especially  the  poets,  it  is  necessary  to 
have  some  acquaintance  even  with  those  fables;  and  we  know 
with  considerable  precision  the  period  when  they  cease  to  mix 
themselves  with  facts,  and  when  authentic  history  commences. 

*  See  a  clear  and  rational  account  of  the  origin  of  the  trade  between  F.gypt, 
Arabia,  and  India,  in  Brucc's  Travels,  b.  ii.  ch   i. 


52  UNiv'KRSAr,  msToitv.  [book  i 

This  resj)crliil)le  people  was  not  free  from  the  conitiion  vanity 
of  iK'.tions,  of  aitrilnilinj;;  to  itself  a  measure  of  antiquity  far  be- 
yond all  hounds  of  probahility.  The  Athenians,  indeed,  in  term- 
ing themselves  AvTo/Ooft::^  seemed  to  claim  for  their  own  nation 
an  antiquity  coeval  with  the  formation  of  the  earth;  which  was 
just  as  allowable  as  the  boast  of  the  Arcadians,  that  they  were 
ruioijhhjroi^  ov  oldtr  tlicin  the  moon.  But  whatever  was  the  origin 
of  the  ancient  inhai)iiants  of  this  country,  it  is  certain,  that  till 
civili/.ed  in  some  measure  by  colonies  of  the  Eastern  nations  who 
settled  among  them,  they  were  in  a  state  of  the  rudest  barbarism. 
The  aboriginal  Greeks,  under  their  various  denominations  of  Pe- 
lasgi,  Aones,  Iliantes,  Leleges,  &c.,  were  a  race  of  savages  who 
dwelt  in  caverns,  and  are  said  to  have  been  so  barbarous,  as  to 
live  without  any  subordination  to  a  chief  or  leader,  to  have  fed  on 
human  flesh,  and  to  have  been  ignorant  of  the  use  of  fire.  The 
most  ancient  colony  from  the  East  that  are  said  to  have  establish- 
ed themselves  among  these  barbarians  are  the  Titans,  a  band  of 
adventurers  from  Piioenicia  or  the  adjoining  coasts,  who  are  gen- 
erally supposed  to  have  come  thither  about  the  lime  of  Abraham. 
We  have  already  seen  that  the  Phcenicians  were  at  this  time  a 
commercial  people,  trading  to  all  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean; 
but  it  is  evident  tiiat  no  views  of  commerce  could  have  been  their 
inducement  to  settle  among  a  race  of  savages.  It  seems  therefore 
probable  that  the  fertility  of  the  country  had  attracted  those  stran- 
gers thither,  and  that,  availing  themselves  of  those  advantages 
which  their  superior  knowledge  and  improvements  gave  them  over 
the  rude  inhabitants,  they,  partly  by  policy,  and  partly  by  conquest, 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  country.  At  all  events,  it  is  uni- 
versally allowed  that,  from  the  period  of  those  strangers  settling 
among  them,  the  Greeks  assumed  a  new  character,  and  exhibited 
m  some  respects  the  manners  of  a  civilized  nation.  The  dawn- 
ings  of  a  national  religion  began  to  appear;  for  the  Titans  were  a 
religious  people.  They  taught  the  savages  to  worship  the  Phoe- 
.nician  gods,  Ouranos,  Saturn,  Jupiter,  &c.,  who  were  nothing 
more  than  deified  heroes;  and"  by  a  progress  of  ideas  not  unnat- 
ural, this  rude  people  confounded  in  after  times  those  gods  with 
the  Titans  who  introduced  them.  The  feats  and  achievements  of 
the  Titans,  and  those  wars  which  had  taken  place  among  them, 
were  believed  to  have  been  the  exploits  and  wars  of  the  gods. 
Hence  sprung  the  greatest  part  of  the  Greek  mythology,  and  the 
numberless  fables  regarding  their  gods  and  demi-gods. 

The  Titans  seem  to  have  been  a  turbulent  people;  they  weak- 
ened themselves  by  their  incessant  quarrels  and  hostile  conflicts, 
and  at  length  entirely  extirpated  each  other.  The  last  of  the  race 
was  Inachus,  who  is  looked  upon  as  the  founde:  of  the  kingdom 
of  Argos.  The  city  of  Argos  was  built  1856  b.  c,  by  his  son 
Phoroneus,  and  the  kingdom  of  Sicyon  founded  by  another  of 
them.     Contemporary  with  him   was    Ogyges,    king  'of  Attica,  ic 


OH      VI. 


CECROPS.  53 


whose  time,  about  1796  b.  c,  is  said  to  have  happened  that 
remarkable  inundation  which  goes  by  the  name  of  the  Dehige  ot 
Ogyges.  As  from  the  time  of  Ogyges  to  that  of  Cecrops  there  is 
no  series  recorded  of  tlie  kings  of  Attica,  nor  any  connected  history 
of  that  period — this  ciiasm  in  tlie  annals  of  the  nation  has  been  by 
some  writers  ascribed  to  the  ravages  of  that  deluge,  by  which  it  is 
said  the  country  was  depopulated,  and  lay  waste  for  above  two 
centuries;  but  this  fact  is  not  supported  by  any  proofs,  while  on 
the  other  hand,  the  best-informed  authors  regard  the  deluge  of 
Ogyges  as  nothing  more  than  a  partial  inundation  from  an  extra- 
ordinary overflowing  of  the  lake  Copais,  in  Boeotia,  which  over- 
spread but  a  part  of  the  low  country,  while  the  rest  continued  to 
be  inhabited. 

This  emergence  of  the  Greeks  from  barbarism,  which  they 
owed  to  the  Titans,  was  only  of  very  short  duration.  They  soon 
relapsed  into  their  former  savage  state;  a  circumstance  which  ac- 
counts, without  the  aid  of  a  deluge,  for  the  total  silence  of  the  his- 
tory of  this  people  for  a  period  above  200  years,  till  they  were  again 
illuminated  by  another  colony  of  strangers  from  the  eastern  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean.  At  the  head  of  this  second  colony  was 
Cecrops,  who,  above  15S2  years  b.  c,  is  supposed  to  have  landed 
in  Attica,  where  there  was  a  species  of  government  under  Acteus, 
but  so  feebly  enforced,  that  tlie  whole  country  was  the  prey  of 
pirates  and  robbers.  It  was  pillaged  on  the  land  side  by  the 
(Eones,  a  people  of  Boeotia,  and  by  the  Carians  on  the  quarter  of 
the  sea.  Cecrops  marrying  the  daughter  of  Acteus,  succeeded  to 
the  sovereignty,  and  taught  his  subjects  the  most  effectual  way  of 
resisting  those  violences,  by  associating  together  in  small  commu- 
nities, and  thus  uniting  their  strength.  He  built  several  cities  in 
Attica,  and  is  celebrated  as  an  able  politician  and  legislator.  Cities 
we  may  suppose  were,  at  this  time,  a  collection  of  huts  like  an 
Indian  village;  and  political  regulations  extended  no  further  than 
f-o  enforce  obedience  to  the  chief,  and  union  among  the  tribe;  to 
define  property,  and  to  give  ft  some  small  degree  of  security. 

Dark  ;ind  uncertain  as  the  history  of  Greece  is  at  this  period, 
ive  must  observe  that  it  begins  to  have  a  degree  of  authenticity 
from  a  very  singular  and  venerable  njonument  of  anti(piity,  the 
Chronicle  of  Paros,  which  is  preserved  among  the  collection  of 
marbles  brought  from  Smyrna  by  the  Earl  of  Arundel,  and  now 
the  pro|)erty  of  the  University  of  Oxford. 

This  Chronicle  of  Paros  contains  a  j)recious  memorial  of  history 
and  of  chronology,  and  fixes  the  eras  of  many  facts  left  uncertain 
by  the  Greek  writers.  Not,  however,  that  it  can  be  pretended 
that  there  arises  from  this  chronicle  the  same  certainty  that  would 
arise  from  particular  records  coeval  with  the  facts;  for  this  monu- 
ment is  only  the  testimony  of  an  author  relating  facts  which  had 
happened  many  ages  before  his  own  time.  But,  in  the  first  ))lace, 
he  is  a  very  ancient  author;    and,  secondly,  his  chronicle  being 


61  UNIVF.USAI.    IIISTOUV.  [bOOK   I 

recorded  on  marble,  it  is  piobable  that  it  was  cut  by  public  aii 
tliority,  and  upon  the  evidence  of  anterior  monuments.  A  proof 
of  its  antitpiiiy  arises  from  the  circumstance  of  die  dates  being 
markeil  by  a  very  ancient  method  of  numeration,  which  Ilerodiart 
iiicniions  as  being  in  use  among  the  Greeks  in  the  early  ages. 
The  numerical  letters,  instead  of  proceeding  in  the  order  of  the 
alphabet,  are  the  first  letters  of  the  numerical  word;  as  7/ for  ll'vif^ 
five;  -J  for  ^^x^t^  ten — &c.  An  argument  of  the  veracity  and 
auth(;nticity  of  the  chronicle  arises  from  this  circumstance,  that  in 
the  whole  course  of  events  there  recorded,  there  is  no  particular 
which  has  the  air  of  fiction.  It  was  the  poets  only  who  intermixed 
history  with  fable;  the  genuine  monuments  of  history  seem  to 
have  been  preserved  pure  and  unadulterated,  making  allowance 
only  for  what  the  credulity  of  rude  and  ignorant  times  might  .-idopt 
for  truth,  and  which  increasing  knowledge  has  rejected  as  faljnlous. 
In  this  chronicle  we  have  the  era  and  duration  of  the  siege  of  Troy, 
but  none  of  the  marvellous  circumstances  with  which  that  event 
has  been  embellished  by  Homer.  Mention  is  likewise  made  of 
Ceres,  of  Hercules,  of  Mars,  and  Neptune,  but  no  fabulous  ex- 
j)loits  are  recorded  of  them.  A  great  deal  of  authority  seems, 
therefore,  deservedly  due  to  this  chronicle,  which  marks  the  dates 
of  the  principal  events  of  the  Grecian  history,  from  the  reign  of 
Cecrops  down  to  the  age  of  Alexander  the  Great.  Time  and 
accident  have  mutilated  both  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  this 
monument,  from  which,  if  entire,  we  might  probably  have  learned 
both  the  precise  time  when  it  was  constructed,  and  the  evidence 
of  anterior  monuments  from  which  the  dates  were  taken;  but  of 
these  important  circumstances  we  must  be  content  to  remain  in 
ignorance. 

Resting,  then,  upon  the  authority  of  this  venerable  monument, 
we  may  credit  all  the  principal  fiicts  which  are  recorded  even  in 
the  earliest  part  of  this  period;  while  we  receive  with  a  proper 
degree  of  skepticism  those  circumstances  detailed  by  the  ancient 
writers  which  have  the  air  of  fable,  and  which  are  not  to  be  found 
in  this  chronicle. 

Cecrops  died  childless,  and  was  succeeded  by  Cranaiis,  an 
Athenian,  in  whose  time  happened  two  remarkable  events,  both 
recorded  in  the  Chronicle  of  Paros — the  judgment  of  the  court  of 
Areo|)agns,  between  Mars  and  Neptune,  two  princes  o'^  Thessaly 
—and  the  Deluge  of  Deucalion. 

Ilallirothius,  the  son  of  Neptune,  had  violated  Alcippe,  the 
daughter  of  Mars,  and  her  father  put  him  to  death  in  revenge  for 
the  injury.  To  avoid  a  war  which  would  have  ensued  between 
these  princes  on  occasion  of  this  quarrel,  their  ditlerence  was  sub- 
mitted to  the  judgment  of  the  Areopagus,  which  decreed  that  the 
revenge  of  Mars  was  justified  by  the  outrage  which  he  had  sus- 
tained. This  celebrated  tribunal  had  been  instituted  by  Cecrops, 
and  soon  arose  to  such    reputation,  that  strangers    and  even  the 


CH.   VJ.]  DELUGE    OF    DEUCALIOV.  55 

sovereigns  of  other  countries,  someiinies  submitted  tlieir  most  im 
portJint  differences  to  its  decision. 

The  number  of  its  judges  is  variously  reported  by  historians. 
Some  writers  have  limited  it  to  nine;  others  have  enlarged  it  to 
thirty-one,  and  some  to  fifiy-one:  whence  it  is  probable  that  the 
number  has  been  different  at  different  periods.  They  were  chosen 
from  among  the  wisest  and  most  respectable  of  the  citizens,  and, 
in  the  latter  times,  consisted  principally  of  such  as  had  enjoyed  the 
dignity  of  archons  or  chief  magistrates.  They  helil  their  meetings 
in  the  open  air,  upon  an  eminence  in  the  middle  of  the  city,  and 
determined  all  causes  during  the  night;  for  these  two  reasons,  as 
Athena'us  informs  us,  that  neither  the  number  nor  the  faces  of  the 
judges  being  known,  there  might  be  no  attempts  to  corrupt  them; 
and  that,  as  they  neither  saw  the  ])lnintiff  nor  defendant,  their 
decisions  might  be  quite  imj)artial.  To  these  reasons  the  Presi- 
dent Goguet  adds  a  third,  that  as  they  sat  in  the  open  air,  their 
proceedings  would  have  been  constantly  embarrassed  by  the  crowd 
which  would  perpetually  have  attended  them,  had  they  met  in  the 
day-time.  Of  the  powers  of  this  high  tribunal,  and  the  nature  of 
Its  jurisdiction,  I  shall  treat  more  particularly  when  I  come  to  con- 
sider the  constitution  of  the  Athenian  republic. 

The  other  remarkable  event  whif.h  distinguished  the  age  of 
Cranaus,  the  successor  of  Cecrops,  was  the  Deluge  of  Deucalion. 
There  is  no  event  more  celebrated  in  antiquity  than  this  remarka- 
ble inundation.  Deucalion  is  feigned  by  the  poets  to  have  been 
the  restorer  of  the  human  race,  and  was  in  all  probability  the 
parent  stock  of  a  very  numerous  progeny  in  Greece.  But  the 
deluge  which  happened  in  his  time  was  certainly  nothing  more 
than  another  partial  inundation,  like  the  deluge  of  Ogyges,  caused 
by  the  overflowing  of  some  of  the  Thessalian  rivers,  probably  the 
Peneus.  That  this  deluge  was  only  partial  is  proved  by  this  fact, 
that  the  succession  of  the  sovereigns  in  the  different  states  of 
Greece  preceding  the  age  of  Deucalion  is  preserved,  as  well  as 
the  series  of  those  who  came  after  his  time.  History  shows  no 
chasm  in  the  succession  of  the  kings  of  Argos,  Athens,  or  Sicyon, 
which  must  have  taken  place  had  the  deluge  been  universal.  The 
Chronicle  of  Paros  ,2;ives  its  aid  in  confirmalion  of  this  idea;  for  it 
records  that  Deucalion,  after  escaping  from  the  flood,  retired  to 
Athens,  where  he  sacrificed  to  Jupiter  Phryxius.  The  poets 
have  embellished  this  event  with  a  variety  of  circumstances  ex- 
tremely similar  to  those  we  find  in  the  Mosaiac  accounts  of  the  uni- 
versal deluge;  but  this  proves  no  more  than  that  these  authors  had 
either  seen  the  sacred  writings,  whence  they  had  borrowed  those 
circumstances,  or  else  that  the  tradition  of  that  great  event  being 
very  generally  diffused,  they  had  applied  its  circumstances  to  an 
.nundation  which  was  merely  topical,  and  long  posterior  to  the 
other,  though  still  a  very  ancient  event  with  reference  to  the  age 
in  which   those   authors  wrote.      Those  partial  inundations  were 


SS  u.Mvr.nsAt,  MisToFtv.  [nooK   i 

nxlrciiit'ly  coinnion  in  Grecfo.  Xciioplion  reckons  no  less  thaxi 
five  of  llifiii,  iiiiil  Diodonis  Siculus  lueiilious  a  sixth,  posterior  lo 
those  cmiineraiod  hy  Xciiophon. 

Coiitrinponiiy  uith  Craiiaus  was  Amphietyoii,  who  reigned  at 
Thermopylae', — a  prince  of  great  and  coinprchensive  views,  if  in 
reality  Greece  owed  to  him  that  excellent  political  insiitut'on  of 
ihe  conncil  of  the  Amphictyons;  bnt  I  should  rather  incline  lo  be 
of  another  opinion.  The  state  of  Greece  was  at  this  time  so  rude, 
and  tiie  country  broken  into  so  many  independent  sovereignties, 
that  we  can  hardly  suppose  any  single  prince  to  have  had  sufli- 
cient  induence  to  bring  about  a  league  of  twelve  states  or  cities 
with  their  dependencies,  and  to  make  them  adopt  one  common 
interest.  The  institution  was  cerlaiidy  ancient,  but  more  pnjba- 
bly  owed  its  origin  to  some  national  emergency  which  made  the 
northern  districts  of  Greece  sensible  of  the  necessity  of  combining 
their  power  and  uniting  their  interests.  The  name  Aiiqixjims;^ 
accordingly  to  its  original  orthograj)hy,  makes  this  conjecture, 
which  is  the  notion  of  Suidas,  more  probable.  It  is  more  natural 
to  suppose  the  council  was  so  named  as  being  composed  of  depu- 
ties from  all  the  cities  around,  than  that  it  took  its  a|)pel]ation 
from  a  prince  of  the  name  of  Amphictyon,  of  whose  history  we 
know  nothing  else  than  this  alleged  remarkable  fact. 

The  states  united  in  this  general  council  were  the  lonians,  among 
whom  were  comprehended  the  Athenians;  the  Dorians;  the  Per- 
iKtbians;  the  Boeotians;  Magncsians;  Achaeans;  Ptiiians;  Melians; 
Dolopians;  iEnianians;  Delphians;  and  Phocians.  They  met 
twice  in  the  year  at  ThermopyhT,  and  afterwards  at  Delphi;  two 
deputies  attcndins  from  each  state;  and  in  their  deliberations  and 
resolutions  all  were  on  a  footing  of  equality.  Limited  at  first  to 
twelve  separate  republics,  this  council  came  afterwards  to  include 
the  whole  of  the  Grecian  states,  according  as  the  principal  or  lead- 
ing republics  acquired  territories  belonging  to  any  of  the  Amphic- 
lyonic  cities,  and  thus  came  to  have  a  voice  in  the  general  council. 
Thus  the  Ijaceda^monians  becoming  masters  of  the  territory  of 
Doris,  had  their  deputies  in  this  council,  from  which  in  their  own 
right  tliey  were  excluded.  Hence  the  assembly  of  the  Amphic- 
lyons,  from  being  at  first  a  partial  league  of  twelve  cities,  became 
a  convention  of  all  the  states  of  Greeee.  The  deputies  sent  thither 
represented  the  body  of  the  people,  and  had  full  powers  to  dt  li- 
berate and  to  form  resolutions  on  all  that  regarded  the  common 
interest  of  the  combined  states.*     The  princip  e  of  this  association 


•  Tlie  nafiire  of  the  powers  supposed  to  be  resident  in  this  council,  and  the 
(frievaiires  aorninst  which  it  was  intended  chiefly  to  provide  a  remedv.  nnv  be 
gathered  from  the  oath  taken  by  the  deputies,  as  we  find  it  recorded  in  the 
orntiiin  of  .F.srliines  dr  Fula.  I^irnt.: — '•  I  swear  that  I  will  never  subvert  any 
Amphicfyonic  city  :  I  will  never  stop  the  courses  of  their  water,  either  in  war 
kr  peace.     If  any  such   outrages  should  be   altempled,  I   will   oppose  tliem   bj 


C!I.   VI.)  CADMUS.  61 

cannot  be  sufficiently  commended.  It  made  all  the  leading  men 
of  the  several  states  o*"  Greece  personally  known  to  each  other, 
and  led  to  a  communication  of  every  sort  of  knowledge  and  im- 
provement. It  had  a  powerful  effect  in  civilizing  a  rude  nation, 
and  repressing  those  petty  feuds  between  its  separate  cantons, 
and  that  encroaching  and  predatory  spirit,  so  common  in  such  a 
state  of  society,  and  so  hostile  to  all  advancement  and  general 
prosperity.  Without  some  such  bond  of  union,  Greece,  from  the 
nature  of  its  separate  governments,  could  never  have  formed  a 
considerable  power  in  the  scale  of  the  nations  of  antiquity,  nor 
ever  have  withstood  the  force  of  such  formidable  enemies  as  we 
shall  see  she  had  to  encounter. 

Contemporary  with  this  real  or  fabulous  Amphictyon  was  Cad- 
mus, who,  about  1519  years  before  the  Christian  era,  is  said  to 
have  imported  from  Phoenicia  into  Greece  the  art  of  alphabetic 
writing.  The  Phoenician  alphabet,  which  is  generally  su|)posed 
to  be  the  root  of  all  the  others,  consisted  only  of  sixteen  letters, 
and  the  ancient  Greeks  had  no  more  for  many  centuries  after 
wards.  Before  the  introduction  of  the  Phoenician  alphabet  by 
Cadmus,  it  is  probable  that  the  Greeks  used  either  the  hierogly- 
pliic  mode,  or  the  more  ancient  manner  of  expressing  their  ideas 
by  rude  pictures.  The  word  i'tiuqi-iv  being  used  to  signify  either 
to  lorite  or  to  paint,  countenances  diis  supposition.  After  the  in- 
troduction of  the  alphabetic  mode,  the  Greeks  wrote,  not  as  after- 
wards, constantly  from  left  to  right,  but  alternately  from  left  to 
right  and  frors  right  to  left.  This  mode  of  writing,  of  which  there 
are  some  specimens  preserved  among  the  Arundelian  marbles  at 
Oxford,  was  termed  Boustropkedon,  from  its  resemblance  to  the 
furrows  described  in  ploughing  a  field. 

With  the  art  of  writing,  Cadmus  brought  likewise  from  Phoeni 
cia  a  knowledge  of  all  those  arts  and  sciences  which  were  practised 
and  cultivated  at  this  time  in  that  early  civilized  country.  The 
Greeks  gradually  advancing  iu  improvement,  and  shaking  off  their 
original  barbarism,  begin,  from  this  period,  to  figure  as  an  united 
people,  and  to  turn  their  thoughts,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  to 
ambitious  and  hazardous  enterprises.  But,  before  proceeding  to 
notice  these,  I  shall  here  take  occasion  to  offer  a  few  refiections 
on  the  short  preceding  sketch  of  the  first  and  rudest  period  of  the 
Grecian  history. 


forco  of  arms,  and  do  my  Piuleavors  to  destroy  those  cities  wliicli  are  g  lilty  of 
such  altPinpls.  If  any  devastalions  be  committed  in  the  territory  of  A|>  illo,  if 
any  shall  be  privy  to  such  ofTciice,  or  enlerlain  any  desiirn  a!if:iinst  the  toinple, 
I  will  use  inv  hands,  my  feet,  my  wlicije  f  )rce  to  brinij  the  otVcnder  in  just  pun- 
ishment." The  latler  part  of  (lie  oath  was  int'^nded  as  a  jruird  upon  the  purity 
of  the  national  reiiirion  ;  and  this  care  was  always  iinderst'ivd  to  form  a  very 
important  part  of  the  function  of  the  Amphictyonic  council.  This  oath  was 
guarded  by  the  most  (Ireadful  curses  and  awful  imprecatinns  of  venij-i'ance  upon 
any  dei)uly  who  should  violate  the  oblijjations  which  he  thus  came  under 

VOL.  I.  8 


58  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOFIY.  fuOOK    I 


CHAPTER   VII. 


Rfflcclions  on  tlie  first  and  rudest  periods  of  tlic  Grecian  History — Extreni€ 
Itarliarisin  of  tlie  Aborigines— Circumstances  which  retarded  Civilization — 
Orijriri  of  the  (Jreek  Theology — Uncertainty  of  Arythological  R/'st-arches — 
Su|)erslilioiis  Cliaracler  of  the  Greeks — Oracles — Games — EflTecta  of  tliem 
on  the  National  Character. 


The  topographical  appearance  of  the  country  of  Greece,  when 
surveyed  upon  a  map,  presents  to  the  view  a  large  irregular  penin- 
sula, surrouncled  on  the  east,  south,  and  west,  by  the  Mediterra- 
nean, wliich  deeply  indents  its  coasts,  and  divided  internally  by 
several  large  chains  of  mountains,  which,  with  their  lateral  branches, 
form  so  many  intersections,  that  tlie  whole  face  of  the  country  ap- 
pears cut  into  a  great  number  of  small  valleys,  surrounded  almost 
on  every  side  by  hills.  Hence,  while  the  coasts  of  the  peninsula 
formed  a  muliiujde  of  bays  and  harbors,  easily  accessible  to  stran- 
gers who  came  thither  widi  a  view  either  to  colonize  or  to  make 
spoil,  it  must  have  been  extremely  difficult  for  those  invaders  to 
penetrate  into  the  interior  parts  of  the  country;  and  troops  of  an 
enemy,  after  the  conquest  of  one  canton,  would  find  fresh  ditficul- 
lics,  and  a  war  to  recommence,  at  every  step  of  their  progress. 
From  the  same  cause,  the  internal  structure  of  the  country,  it 
would  necessarily  happen,  that  even  after  a  colony  of  strangers 
had  formed  a  permanent  establishment,  and  begun  to  spread  iin- 
l)rovement  and  civ  ilization  around  ihcm,  the  progress  of  that  civih- 
zation  would  be  extremely  slow.  For  the  inhabitants  of  the  dif- 
ferent cantons  living  altogether  detached,  and  feeling  very  few 
wants  to  incite  to  intercourse  or  to  union,  any  improvement  which 
they  received  wotild  be  partial,  and  very  slowly  communicated  to 
their  neighboring  provinces.  The  conformity,  indeed,  of  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Greeks,  would  seem  to  countenance  the  nation  of 
their  having  free  communication  and  intercourse;  but  this  general 
conformity  may  be  accounted  for  from  their  having  all  the  same 
origin;  and  if  the  original  language  was  the  same,  it  must,  in  such 
a  state  ot  barbarism,  have  long  remained  without  much  change, 
even  though  the  dilferent  districts  of  the  country  had  no  intercourse 
with  each  other. 

And  here  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  admirable  structure  of 
the    Greek    language,  highly  complicated,  yet  at  the    same    time 


ClI     VII.]  THE    GREEKS.  59 

wonderfully  regular,  and  at  once  the  most  copious  and  most  elegant 
of  the  known  tongues,  is  of  itself  a  proof  of  that  tradition  which 
attributes  the  first  civilization  of  this  people  to  a  colony  of  strangers 
from  one  or  other  of  the  more  polished  countries  of  the  East;  for 
this  laiigungc,  such  as  we  find  it  to  have  been  in  the  days  of  Ilonier 
and  of  licsiod,  is  a  phenomenon  altogether  inconsistent  with  the 
state  of  society  in  which  it  is  found,  and  with  the  rude  and  barba- 
rous manners  of  the  people  who  used  it.  It  must,  therefore,  have 
been  imported  and  taught  to  this  people  by  the  colony  of  a  refined 
and  polished  nation  among  w'hom  it  had  its  birth. 

That  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  this  peninsula  were  rude  and 
uncultivated  savages,  is  a  fact  which  the  moderns  have  no  reasona- 
b.e  grounds  for  doubting,  when  we  find  it  the  uniform  belief  of  the 
nation  itself  in  all  periods  of.  its  annals,  and  the  common  opinion 
of  its  best  historians.  "Who  could  imagine,"  says  M.  Goguet, 
"that  that  ingenious  people  to  whom  Europe  is  indebted  for  all 
its  knowledge,  were  descended  from  savages  who  wandered  in  the 
woods  and  fields,  without  laws  or  leaders,  having  no  other  retreat 
but  dens  and  caverns,  ignorant  even  of  the  use  of  fire,  and  so  bar- 
barous as  even  to  eat  one  another.'"'  Why  should  we  doubt  of 
these  facts,  when  we  know  for  a  truth  that  other  nations,  in  times 
comparatively  modern,  were  upon  their  first  discovery  found  in  a 
state  erpially  barbarous.''  The  inhabitants  of  the  Marian  Islands, 
when  they  were  discovered  by  Magellan  in  1521,  had,  till  that 
time,  never  seen  fire,  and  expressed  the  utmost  astonishment  at  it. 
They  believed  it  to  be  an  animal  which  fixed  itself  upon  wood  and 
fed  upon  it,  and  when  approaching  so  near  as  to  be  burnt,  they 
ihouglit  they  were  bit  by  it.  The  inhabitants  of  the  Philippine 
and  Canary  Islands  were,  at  their  first  discovery,  in  a  state  of  ecpial 
ignorance.  There  are,  it  is  true,  but  few  countries  in  which  light- 
ning is  not  scon  at  times,  and  its  eflects  perceived;  but  as  those 
effects  are  alwavs  destructive,  a  savage  would  naturally  regard  the 
phenomenon  with  horror;  and  if  a  similar  effect  should  by  chance 
manifest  itself  from  the  collision  of  hard  substances,  he  would  not 
readily  conceive  that  it  could  be  turned  to  useful  purjioses;  and, 
therefore,  instead  of  preserving  the  fire,  would  nattirally  either 
endeavor  to  suppress  and  extingtiish  it,  or,  if  he  found  tiiat 
hiipracticable,   would  fiy   from  it  and  leave  it  to  its  ravages. 

That  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  Greece  were  anthropophai^i  is 
no  more  incredible,  than  that  there  are  savage  tiibes  at  this  day  in 
Asia,  Africa,  and  America,  who  make  a  common  practice  of  feed- 
ing on  human  flesh.*     We  think  of  (his  with  iiorror,  and  execrate 


*  Tlio  Now  Zonlrinflers.  Imyond  dnulit,  arc  cannilials.  —  Sep   Ilmrhmrnrlh  and 
Coohe's  Itisl    I'oiiiiirr  in   1777.     Tlicy   fat,   however,  only   tlii-ir  enemies,  and  ex- 

Crpsscd  pn-al  ahhortonro  when  asked  if  tlicy    eat   their    friends    who  h.id  heen 
illed. —  [See    also    Marie's    lyrsidfiirr    in  .\nrZrahind,  lti33 — I'.His's    Pulync^ian 
Researches,  182U  — and  Sir  Stamford  Uallles  on  Java.] 


60  UNIVEIISAL    II.STOKV.  [bOOK    I 

the  idea  as  shocking  and  unnatural.  Wc,  who  do  not  know  what 
it  is  to  want  the  su|)i)lies  of  a  vast  variety  of  ahuicnt,  study  to  ex- 
cite the  satiated  appetite  by  skilful  combinations  and  ingenious 
refiiicinents  of  cookery:  but  we  should  jndge  more  impartially,  if, 
while  wc  thought  of  those  bloody  repasts,  we  took  likewise  into 
view  the  nigzardly  provision  which  nature  in  many  regions  of  the 
earth  has  made  for  man;  the  barren  deserts  which  he  inh;ibits,  the 
climate  which  often  locks  up  or  annihilates  their  scanty  produce, 
and  the  dreadful  extremities  to  which  even  civilized  man  has  been 
known  to  proceed  for  the  support  of  life.  Necessity  only,  in  the 
most  savage  nations,  could  at  first  get  the  better  of  the  strongest 
instinct;  but  that  once  overcome,  a  habit  is  soon  acquired,  and 
will  not  be  laid  aside  as  long  as  subsistence  remains  in  any  degree 
precarious. 

In  a  nation  so  barbarous  as  we  must  believe  Greece  to  have 
been  at  this  period,  there  were  many  circumstances  which  retarded 
the  advances  to  refinement. 

The  Titans,  the  first  colony  of  strangers  from  the  East,  might 
have  mtroduced  a  degree  of  civilization,  but  it  could  be  only  tem- 
porary. They  taught  the  Greeks  agriculture;  but  the  continual 
wars  in  which  they  were  engaged  among  themselves  rendered  the 
improvement  of  the  country  quite  impracticable,  for  no  man  had 
any  security  for  reaping  the  fruits  of  his  labor.  These  strangers 
were  extirminatcd,  and  Greece,  in  a  few  years,  relapsed  into  her 
original  barbarism.  The  second  and  third  colonies  from  the  East 
founded  a  few  cities,  then  termed  kingdoms;  for  every  city  was  a 
separate  state,  and  we  may  form  a  judgment  of  the  nature  of  these 
stales  from  this  circumstance,  that  at  the  time  of  Cecrops,  when 
Attica  consisted  of  twehe  separate  states  or  cities,  the  inhabitants 
of  the  whole  district  amounted  only  to  20,000. 

The  detached  situation  of  the  Greeks,  of  which  we  have  already 
taken  notice,  and  the  natural  barriers  between  the  difi'erent  cantons, 
gave  to  the  inhabitants  a  certain  spirit  of  independence,  which, 
even  after  the  foundation  of  a  political  union,  would  very  much 
resist  all  attempts  towards  the  establishment  of  general  laws,  and, 
consequeiilly,  afibrd  the  greatest  obstacles  to  general  civilization. 
One  ijowerful  engine,  best  fitted  to  overcome  these  obstacles,  was 
the  introduction  of  a  national  religion,  which  Greece,  as  we  have 
already  observed,  owed  to  those  eastern  colonies. 

It  is  a  very  just  remark  of  an  ingenious  historian,*  that  the  the- 
ology of  any  country  is  an  indication  of  the  state  of  manners  when 
that  system  was  first  formed.  "  By  knowing  the  adventures  and 
attributes  of  any  false  deity,  we  can  pronounce  with  some  cer- 
tainty what  must  have  been  the  state  of  society  and  manners  when 
ne  was  elevated  to  that  dignity.     The  mythology  of  Greece  plainly 


•  Robertson's  Historical  Disquisition  concerning  India,  Appendix,  p.  '517 


CH,    VII.]  THE    GREEKS   — MYTHOI.OOY.  61 

indicates  tho  characlcr  of  the  ago  in  which  it  was  formed.  It  must 
have  been  in  times  of  the  greatest  licentiousness,  anarchy,  and 
violence,  that  divinities  of  the  highest  rank  could  he  supposed 
capable  of  perpetrating  actions,  or  of  being  influenced  by  passions, 
which,  in  more  enlightened  periods,  would  be  deemed  a  disgrace 
to  human  nature:  it  must  have  been  when  the  earth  was  still  in- 
fested with  destructive  monsters,  and  mankind,  under  forms  of 
government  too  feeble  to  afford  them  protection,  were  exposed  to 
the  depredations  of  lawless  robbers,  or  the  cruelty  of  savage  op- 
pressors, that  the  well-known  labors  of  Hercules,  by  which  he 
was  raised  from  earth  to  heaven,  could  have  been  necessary,  or 
would  have  been  deemed  highly  meritorious." 

What  was  the  original  worship  of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  this 
country  we  are  entirely  at  a  loss  to  know;  but  barbarous  as  they 
were,  they  probably  had  some  notions  of  religion,  and  receiving 
from  strangers  a  new  system  of  theology,  of  which  at  first  their 
ideas  must  have  been  very  confused,  they  would  naturally  graft 
the  one  upon  the  other;  as  we  know  that  in  modern  times  several 
savage  nations  have  done  in  blending  their  own  idolatries  with  the 
tenets  of  Christianity.  Hence  if  we  still  trace  the  gods  of  the 
Phoenicians  and  of  the  Egyptians  in  those  of  the  Greeks,  with 
respect  to  the  great  characterizing  circumstances  of  their  powers 
and  attributes,  it  is  a  very  fruitless  labor  which  some  learned  men 
have  undertaken  in  attempting  to  prove  a  coincidence  in  all  the 
minute  particulars  of  their  fabulous  lives,  exploits,  and  metamor- 
phoses. I  know  of  no  subject  which  has  afforded  so  much  dis- 
quisition, or  so  many  opposite  opinions,  as  the  attempts  that  have 
been  made  to  reconcile  the  mythologies  of  different  nations,  or  to 
trace  up  all  the  absurd  fables  of  the  pagan  theologies  to  one 
common  origin.  It  would  be  idle  to  enter  deeply  into  a  subject 
of  this  nature;  yet  I  tliink  it  of  consequence  to  take  notice  at  least 
of  one  theory  or  system  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  pagan 
mythologies  which  some  very  good  men  have  adopted,  from  a 
mistaken  zeal  in  the  cause  of  religion.  Some  of  these  authors, 
with  wonderful  learning,  but  with  much  indiscietion,  have  attem|)t- 
ed  to  show  that  most  of  the  fables  regarding  the  heathen  deities 
and  their  illustrious  exploits  derive  their  origin  from  the  sacred 
Scriptures,  and  are  nothing  else  than  the  lives  and  actions  of  the 
first  patriarchs  vitiated  and  disguised  in  passing  by  tradition  to 
barbarous  and  unenlightened  nations.  Thus  the  learned  Bochart 
finds  out  the  patriarch  Noah  in  the  pagan  Saturn,  his  son  Siiem  in 
Pluto,  Ham  in  Jupiter  Ammon,  and  Japhet  in  Neptune.*  Moses 
alone  is  said  to  have  furnished  the  idea  of  Apollo,  jEsCulapius, 
Priapus,  Prometheus,  Tiresias,  Proteus,  Typhon,  Perseus,  Or- 
pheus, Janus,  Adonis;  because  certain  fabulous  exploits,  attributed 


■  l>ocliarl,  Tlioinassin,  Cumberland,  Vossius,  Huet,  Fouriaont,  &c. 


62  UNivEHSAi.  iirsTORV  [book  I 

lo  tlinsc  (Iciiics  and  lieroos,  bear  a  reseinljlance  to  some  of  the 
anions  of  ilic  Jewish  legislator.  In  like  manner  they  have  found 
all  th-  hrathen  goddesses  in  Zij)porah,  the  wife,  oi*  in  Miriam,  the 
sister,  of  Moses.  One  of  these  learned  authors  has  published  a 
book  which  he  calls  Homer  Hebraizing^  in  which  he  alleges  that 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  arc  nothing  else  than  a  history  of  the  illus- 
trious characters  in  Scripture  under  borrowed  names.  This  fond- 
ness for  reducing  all  history  of  remote  antiquity  to  the  sacred 
Scriptures,  and  of  making  the  inspired  volumes  furnish  theology 
not  only  to  the  Jews,  but  to  all  the  heathen  nations,  is  of  very 
j)ernicious  consequence;  for  what  indeed  else  is  it  than  to  say, 
that  the  sacred  oracles,  designed  to  instruct  mankind  in  their 
highest  interests,  and  the  concerns  of  their  eternal  welfare,  have 
produced,  in  most  nations,  the  wildest  and  most  monstrous  fictions, 
which  are  destructive  even  of  morality,  and  persuade  to  vice 
instead  of  virtue.^ 

The  extreme  uncertainty  of  all  mythological  explanations  of 
llie  ancient  fables  is  best  evinced  by  comparing  togellier  the  dif- 
ferent solutions  which  men  of  ingenuity  have  given  of  the  same 
fable.  Tiiis,  no  doubt,  is  a  digression;  but  nothing  is  useless 
which  illustrates  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  The  story  of 
Proteus  feeding  his  sea-calves  upon  the  beach,  and  counting  them 
at  noon,  with  the  extraordinary  faculty  he  had  of  varying  hit 
shape,  is  explained  by  the  Abbe  Banier  into  an  historical  fact  of  a 
king  of  Egypt  of  that  name,  who  is  said  to  have  lived  about  the 
time  of  the  war  of  Troy;  "  a  wise  and  crafty  prince,"  says  Banier, 
"■whose  cautious  temper,  guarding  him  against  all  dangers,  might 
well  pass  for  the  gift  of  prophecy  which  is  ascribed  to  him.  As 
it  must  have  been  extremely  difficult  to  learn  his  secrets,  there 
was  no  impropriety  in  saying  that  it  was  impossible  to  come  at 
the  knowledge  of  them  but  by  binding  him.  He  was,  besides, 
exceedingly  stately,  and  seldom  appeared  in  public,  unless  about 
noon  to  review  his  soldiers,  which  tlie  poets  have  called  counting 
his  flock:  and  as  his  subjects,  the  Egyptians,  lived  upon  the  sea- 
coasts,  they  were  very  properly  termed  sea-calves."  Such  is  tho 
account  of  Proteus  by  the  Abbe  Banier,  which,  it  must  be  ownied, 
is  much  less  extravagant  than  many  of  his  explanations.  It  were 
easy  to  contrast  this  with  at  least  half  a  dozen  different  explana- 
tions of  the  same  fable  by  other  mythologists,  all  of  them  opposite 
to  each  other,  all  equally  plausible,  or,  as  some  perhaps  may 
think,  equally  absurd.  But  I  shall  content  myself  here  with 
giving  one  other  explanation  of  the  same  fable,  by  a  genius  of  a 
superior  order,  I  mean  my  Lord  Bacon,  a  man  whose  vigor  of 
imagination  was  perhaps  his  most  eminent  talent;  and  which, 
though  in  general  it  was  under  the  chastisement  of  a  most  solid 
judgment,  seems  at  times  to  have  eluded  the  watchfulness  of  its 
monitor,  and  to  have  escaped  into  the  regions  of  extravagance. 
He,  too,  was  fond  of  discovering  in  the  ancient  niytholog)'  a  great 


JH.   VII.]  THE    GREEKS MYTHOLOGY.  fi 

deal  of  mysterious  and  secret  wisdom;  but  his  meanings  lie  for 
the  most  part  so  very  deep,  that  it  is  extremely  iinjjrobable  they 
should  ever  have  occurred  to  any  but  himself,  nmch  less  to  tlupe 
who  devised  the  fables. 

The  fable  of  Proteus,  says  Lord  Bacon,  seems  to  point  at  the 
secrets  of  nature,  and  the  various  states  of  matltr.  "  Proteus,  an 
old  man,  signifies  matter,  the  most  ancient  of  all  things  after  God 
hiiMself,  which  resides  as  in  a  cave,  under  the  vast  concavity  of 
the  heavens.  He  is  represented  as  the  servant  of  Neptune,  be- 
cause the  various  operations  and  modifications  of  matter  are  wrought 
chiefly  while  it  is  in  a  fluid  state.  The  herd  or  flock  of  Proteus 
seems  to  mean  nothing  else  than  the  several  kinds  of  animals, 
plants,  and  minerals,  in  which  matter  appears  to  difllise  and  spend 
itself:  so  that,  after  having  formed  these  several  species,  and  as  it 
were  finished  its  task,  it  seems  to  repose,  as  Proteus,  after  count- 
ing his  flock,  is  feigned  to  go  to  sleep.  But  Proteus,  when  any 
attempts  were  made  to  bind  him,  is  said  to  have  changed  into 
many  dilTerent  shapes:  so  matter,  if  any  skilful  artist  should  apply 
force,  and  torture  it  in  order  to  its  annihilation,  will  change  and 
transform  itself  into  a  strange  variety  of  shapes  and  appearances, 
but  nothing  less  than  the  power  of  the  Creator  can  annihilate  or 
truly  destrnv  it.  So,  at  length,  running  through  the  whole  circle 
of  transformations,  and  completing  its  j)eriod,  it  in  some  degree 
restores  itself,  if  the  force  be  continued.  The  prophetical  spirit 
of  Proteus  agrees  excellently  with  the  nature  of  matter;  for  he 
who  knows  the  properties,  the  changes,  and  the  processes  of  matter, 
must  of  necessity  understand  the  effects  and  sum  of  what  it  does, 
has  done,  and  can  do;  though  his  knowledge  extend  not  to  all  the 
parts  and  particulars  thereof." 

Such  is  the  solution  of  the  fable  of  Proteus  by  Lord  Bacon, 
upon  wnich  I  shall  only  remark,  that  if  this  fable  had  any  hidden 
meaning  whatever,  it  is  highly  improbable  that  it  should  have 
been  such  as  could  have  occurred  to  no  other  but  a  man  possessed 
of  similar  talents  to  those  of  its  interpreter,  a  great  jjliilosophioal 
genius,  guided  at  times  by  an  extravagant  imagination.*  The 
extreme  subtilty  and  refinement  of  his  solution  must  convin(;e  us 
at  least  that  the  parable  could  never  hive  answered  the  end  of 
instruction,  which  Lord  Bacon  himself  supposes  to  have  been  the 
chief  use  and  purpose  of  those  ancient  allegories.  To  dismiss  the 
subject  of  mythology,  I  shall  only  observe,  that  researches  of  this 
kind,  however  ingenious,  however  they  may  exercise  and  amuse 
the  imagination,  are  extremely  fruitless.  No  subject  requires 
more   acquaintance  with  history,  or  demands  more  labor  and  re- 


•  Balzric  says,  liumorously,  "  Croyons  done,  pour  I'amonr  du  Clianceliei 
Bacon,  owe  loiitos  les  folies  dea  anciens  sont  saires.  et  tous  leiira  aoni'i'S  myt 
kres 


61  UMVKiisAr,  msTORV.  [nooK  i 

searrli.  But.  tin;  aniiiils  of  liistory  are  rarisarkcd  to  very  little 
j)iir|)()se  if  uc;  cstaljlisli  it  for  a  jjpinciple  that  every  extravagant 
whim  or  absurdity  that  was  current  in  any  ago  or  nation  must 
have  had  soimc  foundation  in  reason.  The  more  we  are  a(r|uainte(l 
with  the  hiunan  mind,  the  more  we  shall  perceive  its  weaknesses, 
its  iirejiidices,  its  caprices,  and  its  follies. 

To  return  from  this  digression — the  great  engine  of  the  civiliza- 
tion of  the  Greeks  was  the  introduction  pf  a  national  religion  hy 
those  eastern  colonics;  and,  inspired  with  the  enthusiasm  of  all 
new  converts,  it  is  no  wonder  that  superstition  was  at  this  time 
their  predominant  characteristic.  To  this  age,  therefore,  and  to 
this  character  of  the  people,  we  must  refer  the  origin  of  the 
Grecian  oracles,  and  the  institution  of  the  public  games  in  honor 
of  the  gods. 

Wit!i  a  rude  and  unenlightened  people  there  is  no  passion  more 
strong  than  the  desire  of  penetrating  into  futurity.  It  would  seem 
that  the  less  the  human  mind  is  aided  by  experience,  or  enabled 
from  extensive  knowledge  to  form  probable  conjectures  of  the 
future  from  the  past,  the  more  it  is  apt  to  wish  for  and  to  believe 
the  possibility  of  some  secret  art  or  method  of  obtaining  such 
anticipated  views.  All  barbarous  nations  have  their  augurs,  their 
sorcerers,  or  their  oracles.  The  Canadian  savages  have  in  every 
tribe  a  few  crafty  impostors,  who  pretend  to  foretell  future  events 
by  visions,  which  they  have  in  their  sleep,  and  who  are  thence 
termed  dreamers.  When  the  tribe  marches  to  war,  these  dreamers 
constantly  attend  in  the  rear  of  the  troop,  and  no  measure  is  ven- 
tured upon  till  they  are  consulted.  The  African  negroes  have 
their  Obi  men  and  women,  who  deal  in  charms  and  incantations, 
and  are  firmly  believed  to  have  the  power  of  dispensing  good  and 
evil  fortune  at  their  pleasure.  The  sorceries  of  the  Laplander  are 
well  known;  and  the  second-sight  of  the  Scottish  highlanders:  all 
proceed  from  the  same  source,  ignorance  and  superstition. 

A  cavern  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Parnassus,  near  Delphi,  was 
remarkable  for  exhaling  a  mejihitic  vapor,  which,  like  that  of  the 
Grotto  del  Cani  in  Italy,  had  the  effect  of  stupefying  and  slightly 
convulsing  any  person  who  came  within  its  atmosphere.  Some 
ingenious  men  had  the  address  to  turn  this  natural  phenomenon 
to  their  own  advantage  and  the  profit  of  the  neighborhood.  A 
temple  was  built  on  the  spot  to  Apollo,  the  god  of  divination.  A 
prif'stess  was  procured  whom  habit  soon  enabled  to  undergo  the 
experiment  without  danger;  the  raving  expressions  which  the 
jiriests  probably  instructed  her  to  utter,  and  which  they  inter- 
preted as  they  thought  fit,  were  received  by  the  people  as  oracles', 
and  her  visible  convulsions  gave  ample  testimony  to  their  being 
the  efTect  of  inspiration.  A  hollow  oak  in  the  forest  of  Dodona, 
in  which  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  conceal  himself  while  the 
aperture  was  artfully  closed  up,  was  likewise  famous  for  its  oracles, 
fuid  the  imposture  was  no  doubt  equally  beneficial  to  its  priests 


CII.    VII. J       '  THE    GRr.EKS — GAMES.  G.3 

and  attendants.  These  were  commonly  men  of  some  art,  \vlio 
had  ingenuity  cnougli  to  frame  equivocal  answers  to  the  questions 
that  were  put  to  them  ;  and  if  the  inquirer  gave  such  construction 
to  the  response  as  was  most  agreeable  to  himself,  it  was  generally 
possible  for  the  priests  to  construe  it  according  to  the  event. 
Strange  !  that  men  should  ever  believe  that  if  the  Deity  should 
stoop  to  hold  intercourse  with  his  creatures,  he  would  use  the 
mean  tricks  and  subterfuges  of  a  juggler. 

Yet  these  oracles  of  the  Greeks  were  for  many  ages  in  high 
reputation,  and  had  extensive  political  consequence.  One  of  the 
causes  which  have  been  assigned  for  the  high  reputation  of  the 
Amphictyonic  Council,  and  the  removal  of  its  seat  from  Thermo- 
pylae to  Delphi,  was  the  interest  which  the  northern  states  of 
Greece  had  in  maintaining  the  veneration  for  the  Delphian  oracle, 
and  the  preservation  of  the  riches  of  its  temple,  with  which  this 
council  was  particularly  entrusted.  A  more  remarkable  conse- 
quence was  the  institution  of  the  public  games  of  the  Greeks. 
The  concourse  of  people  to  the  oracles  upon  particular  occasions 
(for  it  was  only  at  stated  periods  that  they  were  accessible) 
naturally  led  to  the  celebration  of  a  festival  and  to  public  games, 
which,  as  a  religious  motive  first  occasioned  their  celebration, 
began  soon  to  be  considered  as  a  part  of  religion. 

Ttie  celebration  of  public  games  was  of  very  high  antiquity 
among  the  Greeks.  Homer  makes  no  mention  of  the  Olympian, 
or  of  any  other  of  those  which  were  called  the  sacred  games;  but 
is  very  ample  in  the  account  of  the  game?  celebrated  in  honor  of 
the  dead,  in  his  account  of  the  funeral  of  Patroclus,  and  describes 
minutely  the  several  contests  of  chariot-races,  foot-races,  boxing, 
wrestling,  throwing  the  quoit,  launching  the  javelin,  shooting  with 
the  bow,  and  fencing  widi  the  spear.*  These  games  seem  to 
have  borne  a  consiflerable  resemblance  to  the  Gothic  tournaments. 
The  prizes  were  of  considerable  value — a  female  cajjtive,  a  war- 
horse,  golden  goblets,  spears,  &c.  These  we  shall  see  in  after 
times  gave  place  to  such  rewards  as  were  purely  honorary. 

The  four  public,  or  solemn  games  of  the  Greeks,  which  were 
particularly  termed  'f?'^^  or  sacred,  were  the  Olympic,  the  Pythian, 
the  Nemnean,  and  the  Isthmian.  The  precise  eras  when  those 
games  were  first  instituted  are  extremely  uncertain,  as  well  as  the 
persons  to  whom  they  owed  their  origin.  With  regard  to  both 
these  points.  Archbishop  Potter,  in  his  Arch(tolo::la  Grccca^  has 
collected  all  the  different  opinions.  The  Olympic  games,  which 
were  celebrated  at  01ymi)ia  in  the  territory  of  Ellis,  were  held 
every  four  years,  or  rather  every  fiftieth  month,  or  the  second 
iTionth  after  the  completion  of  four  years.  And  hence  have  arisen 
the  seeming  chronological    discordances,  when  events  have  been 


•  Iliad,  2:^. 
VOL.    I.  9 


f>0  U.MVr.RSAt.    HISTOIIY.  [bOOK   I 

«'.oiu|)iitt'(l  l)(»ili  by  years  and  by  olympiiids  ;  for  il  has  btsen  rus- 
loiiiarv  to  allow  four  jirccisc  years  lo  an  olympiad  instead  of  fifty 
inonllis.  The  Greeks  did  not  begin  lo  compute  the  time  by 
olympiads,  from  the  period  wlien  those  games  were  first  instituted. 
They  iiad  even  subsisted  some  centuries  before  they  began  to 
reckon  by  them  ;  and  the  first  olympiad,  according  to  Usher's 
chronology,  begins  only  776  years  before  the  Christian  era,  29 
years  before  the  Babylonian  era  of  Nabonassar,  and  140  before 
iJie  building  of  Rome. 

The  amusemenls  of  the  people  in  all  these  public  games  were 
of  the  same  nature,  and  consisted  principally  in  viewing  contests 
of  skill  in  all  the  adiletic  exercises.  The  prizes  bestowed  on  the 
victors  were  not  rewards  of  any  intrinsic  value,  as  those  given  at 
the  ancient  funeral  games  ;  they  were  originally  of  the  most  simple 
nature.  A  crown  of  wild  olive  or  of  parsley  was  accounted  the 
highest  reward  in  the  times  of  virtuous  simplicity,  when  glory  was 
a  sufficient  incitement  to  excellence  without  the  sordid  allurements 
of  interest ;  and  so  powerful  is  habit  In  its  influence  on  the  mind, 
that  even  in  the  latter  ages  of  Greece,  when  luxury  had  introduced 
corruption  of  every  kind,  the  victors  in  those  games  had  no  other 
reward  than  a  garland  of  leaves.  In  a  political  view,  these  public 
games  were,  during  the  first  ages  of  their  institution,  of  the  most 
important  consequence.  Independently  of  their  effect  in  promoting 
in  the  youth  a  hardy  and  vigorous  conformation  of  body,  and  that 
activity  and  address  in  martial  exercises  and  in  single  combat, 
which,  according  to  the  ancient  system  of  war,  were  of  the  utmost 
importance,  a  most  beneficial  consequence  of  those  public  games 
was  die  frequent  assembling  together  of  the  inhabitants  of  all  the 
stales  of  Greece,  and  thus  promoting  a  national  union  ;  to  which 
the  difference  of  their  governments,  and  their  separate  interests, 
were  otherwise  opposing  a  constant  resistance.  Assembled  on 
these  public  occasions  from  motives  of  pleasure  and  amusement,  to 
which  was  joined  the  notion  of  performing  a  duty  of  religion,  and 
indulging  in  every  species  of  festivity,  they  could  not  avoid  consid- 
ering each  other  as  brethren  and  fellow  citizens.  Whatever  were 
the  political  interferences  of  the  several  states,  or  their  national 
animosities,  every  grudge  of  this  kind  was  at  least  for  the  time 
obliterated.  Thucydides  informs  us  that  all  hostile  operations 
between  states  actually  at  war  were  suspended  during  the  per- 
formance of  those  solemnities.  Another  consequence  of  those 
meetings  was  the  dissemination  of  knowledge,  arts,  science,  and 
literature  ;  for  it  must  be  observed,  that  although  tiie  chief  contests 
In  the  sacred  games  were  those  in  the  martial  and  athletic  exer- 
cises, tliere  were  likewise  trials  of  skill  in  poetry,  history,  and 
music  ;  and  it  is  chiefly  to  these  latter  exercises  of  genius  tJiat  we 
must  attribute  the  eminence  of  the  Greeks  in  those  sciences  above 
all  the  nations  of  antiquity. 


VIII. j  THE    GREEKS  67 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


Early  period  of  the  Greek  history  continued — Earliest  state  of  agriculture  in 
Greece — Erectheus  institutes  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries — Obtains  the  sove 
reignty  of  Attica — Theseus  unites  the  cities  of  Attica — This  the  age  of  the 
marvellous — End  of  that  period — Expedition  of  the  Argonauts — Course  of 
their  voyage — The  solstitial  and  equinoctial  points  fixed  by  Chiron — This 
the  foundation  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  chronology — Twofold  proof  on  which 
it  rests — Progress  of  maritime  afl'airs  in  Greece— Stale  of  the  military  art — 
War  of  Thebes — War  of  the  Ejngonoi — War  of  Troy — Ancient  system  of 
warfare — The  tactic  or  arrangement  of  their  troops — Subsistence  of  the 
armies — Arn?.s — The  war  of  the  HeraclidcE — Change  of  government  in 
Greece — Commencement  of  the  democracy  of  Athens — Origin  of  the  Greek 
colonies — Causes  of  tiieir  rapid  advancement. 

From  the  period  of  the  arrival  of  the  first  of  those  Eastern  colo- 
nies which  formed  establishments  in  Greece,  down  to  the  era  of 
the  war  of  Troy,  is  an  interval  of  above  300  years,  in  which  the 
Greeks  were  gradually  shaking  off  their  original  barbarism,  and 
advancing  in  civilization  and  the  knowledge  of  the  arts  of  life. 
This  whole  space  of  time,  however,  is  accounted  the  fabulous 
period  of  the  Grecian  history.  Not  that  it  contains  no  facts  of 
which  the  authenticity  can  be  relied  on,  but  that  it  abounds  with 
many,  which,  with  a  basis  of  truth,  have  served  as  the  foundation 
for  an  immense  superstructure  of  fable.  Part  of  the  history  of 
this  period  I  have  given  in  the  })receding  chapter,  in  which  I  have 
shortly  traced  the  progress  of  the  Greeks  from  their  most  barbai'- 
ous  state  down  to  the  introduction  of  letters  into  Greece  by  Cad- 
mus. I  shall  now  throw  together  such  facts  as  are  tolerably  well 
authenticated,  and  may  be  relied  on  as  the  great  outlines  of  the 
history  of  what  remains  of  that  doubtful  period  down  to  the  Tro- 
jan war.  From  that  era,  when  it  is  generally  allowed  that  fiction 
ceases  to  mix  itself  with  authentic  history,  we  siiall  proceed  with 
a  greater  degree  of  light,  and  find  the  objects  of  our  study  gradu- 
ally rising  upon  us  in  point  of  importance. 

Greece,  which  is  not  naturally  a  fertile  country,  nourishing  only 
a  few  inhabitants,  and  these  seeking  their  sustenance,  like  other 
savages,  from  the  woods  and  mountains,  did  not  begin  to  practise 
agriculture  till  about  150  years  after  the  time  of  Cecrops.  At 
this  time  Erectheus,  either  a  Greek  who  had  sailed  to  Egypt,  or 
the  leader  of  a  new  colony  of  Egyptians,  is  said  to  have  introduced 
agriculture  into  Attica,  and  to  have  relieved  that  country,  then 
suffering  from  famine,  by  the  importation  of  a  large  quantity  of 
Egyptian  grain      The  only  produce  of  the  native  soil  at  this  time 


C8  I'MVF.itsAi.   iiisToiiv.  InooK   I 

wf?  llio  olive,  which  served  as  a  very  nourishing  food,  hiil  of  whicli 
tlie  various  uses  were  then  so  little  known  that  it  lias  heen  doubled 
if,  even  in  the  days  of  Homer,  the  Greeks  used  oil  for  the  pur- 
j)ose  of  giving  liglit.  It  is  certain  that  this  great  jjoet,  who  is 
ahnndanily  miiiuie  in  describing  every  circumstance  of  domestic 
life,  never  mentions  oil  as  applied  to  that  purpose.* 

Erectheus,  called  by  the  latter  Greeks  Ericthonius,  is  said  to 
oave  cultivated  the  plains  of  Eleusis,  then  a  barren  waste,  and  to 
have  instituted,  in  honor  of  Ceres,  the  Eleusinian  Mysteries,  in 
imitation  of  the  Egyptian  games  of  Isis.  Ceres  is  feigned  to  have 
come  herself  into  Greece  at  this  period;  and  the  poets  have  re- 
corded many  prodigies  of  her  performance.  As  to  the  precise 
nature  of  those  Eleusinian  mysteries,  the  moderns  can  only  form 
conjectures;  since,  even  among  the  ancients,  they  were  kept  an 
iin  iolable  secret  from  all  but  those  who  were  initiated.  They  cer- 
tainly were  of  a  religious  and  even  of  a  moral  nature;  since  we 
find  the  wisest  among  the  ancients  expressing  themselves  with 
regard  to  them  in  strains  of  the  highest  encon)ium.  Cicero,  speak- 
ing of  them,  says,  (De  Leg.  1.  2.)  "  Among  many  other  advanta- 
ges which  we  have  derived  from  Athens,  this  is  the  greatest;  for 
it  has  improved  a  rude  and  barbarous  people,  instructed  us  in  the 
art  of  civilized  life,  and  has  not  only  taught  us  to  live  cheerfully, 
but  to  die  in  peace  in  the  hope  of  a  more  happy  futurity."  For 
a  very  learned  conjectural  explanation  of  those  mysteries,  we  refer 
the  reader  to  Bishop  Warburion's  Divine  Legation  of  JMoses; 
and  many  curious  particulars  regarding  the  actual  ceremonies  per- 
formed in  those  sacred  solemnities  are  enumerated  by  Mr.  Cum- 
berland in  his  Observer,  a  work  which  contains  a  great  deal  of 
\aluable  research  on  various  topics  of  the  antiquities  and  literature 
of  the  Greeks. f 


*  Their  apartments  were  lighted  only  by  fires,  and  in  tlie  palaces  of  princes 
odorift-rous  wood  was  employed  for  that  purpose. — Odyss.  v.  50;  Ibid.  vi.  SOU. 
They  likewise  used  torches  of  pine  and  resinous  woods. — Odyss.  xviii.  300. 

t  According  to  Mr.  Cumberland,  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  were  celebrated 
in  the  lime  of  autumn,  every  fifth  year,  at  Eleusis,  where  a  great  concourse  of 
people  met  on  the  occasion.  The  ceremonies  of  initiation  were  preceded  by 
Bacrifices,  prayers,  and  ablutions.  The  candidates  were  e.^ercised  in  trials  of 
secrecy,  and  prepared  by  vows  of  continence  ;  every  circumstance  was  con- 
trived to  render  the  act  as  awful  and  striking  as  possible  ;  the  initiation  was 
j>erf'irmed  at  midnight,  and  the  candidate  was  taken  into  an  interior  sacristy  of 
the  temple,  with  a  myrtle  garland  on  his  head  ;  here  he  was  examined,  if  he 
had  duly  performed  his  stated  ablutions ;  clean  hands,  a  pure  heart,  and  a 
native  proficiency  in  the  Greek  tongue,  were  indispensable  requisites.  Having 
p.issed  this  examination,  he  was  admitted  into  the  temple,  which  was  an  edifice 
of  immense  magnitude:  after  proclamation  made  that  the  strictest  silence 
should  be  observed,  the  otTiciating  priest  took  out  the  sacred  volumes  contain- 
ing the  mysteries ;  these  books  were  written  in  a  strange  character,  interspersed 
with  figures  of  aninials,  and  various  emblems  and  hieroglyphics;  they  were  pre- 
served in  a  cavity  between  two  large  blocks  of  stone,  closely  fitted  to  each 
Dther,  and  they  were  c;irefully  replaced  by  the  priest  with  much  soileninity, 
itter  he   had  e.xplained  what  was   necessary  to  the  initiated  out  of  them      The 


»;H.    VIIl  ]  THE    GREEKS FABULOUS    PERIOD.  69 

Th?  services  of  Erectheus  weie  rewarded  by  his  obtaining  tiie 
sovereignty  of  Attica,  whicli,  from  that  tinne,  bezan  to  advance  in 
civilization;  and  in  the  succeeding  age,  during  the  reign  of  Theseus, 
the  Greeks  in  general  began  lo  display  an  active  and  ambitious 
spirit,  which  signalized  itself  in  some  very  extraordinary  enter- 
jiriscs.  Such  were  the  expedition  of  the  Argonauts  under  Jason; 
the  war  of  Thebes,  in  which  seven  kings  combined  against  Eteo- 
cles,  its  sovereign;  and  the  war  of  Troy,  which  engaged  all  the 
slates  and  princes  of  Greece. 

Attica,  before  the  time  of  Theseus,  though  under  one  sovereign, 
was  divided  into  twelve  detached  states  or  cities,  each  governed  by 
its  own  magistrates  and  laws.  This  prince  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  grandeur  of  Attica,  by  uniting  these  twelve  states,  combining 
their  interests,  and  throwing  them  into  one  people.  The  separate 
magistracies  were  abolished,  and  the  whole  agreed  to  be  go\erned 
by  the  same  code  of  laws,  in  the  framing  of  which  the  principal 
men  of  eacli  state  had  an  equal  suffrage.  Erectheus  had  divided 
the  citizens  into  four  classes:  Theseus  reduced  them  to  three — the 
nobles,  the  laborers,  and  the  artisans.  As  the  two  last  were  the 
most  numerous  and  the  most  powerful,  he  balanced  that  ine()uality, 
by  conferring  on  the  first  the  sole  regulation  of  all  that  regarded 
religion,  the  administration  of  justice,  and  public  policy.  But 
there  were  in  this  institution  the  seeds  of  future  discord  and  faction; 
for  it  was  in  the  power  of  an  ambitious  noble,  by  ingratiating  him- 
self with  the  inferior  orders,  to  obtain  such  an  ascendency  as  to 
regulate  every  thing  by  his  will;  and,  in  fact,  the  consiilulion  of 
Attica  was  at  this  lime  perpetually  fluctuating,  and  the  people  for 
ever  embroiled  in  civil  commotions. 


initiated  were  enjoined  to  honor  their  parents,  lo  reverence  the  immortal  gods, 
and  aljstain  from  particular  sorts  of  diet,  particularly  tame  fowls,  fish,  beans,  and 
certain  sorts  of  apjiies. 

When  this  was  finished,  the  priests  beiran  to  play  off  the  whole  machinery  of 
Iho  temp'e,  in  all  its  terror;  dolef'ul  groans  and  lamentations  broke  from  the  f.me  , 
thick  and  sudden  darkness  involved  the  temple,  momentary  gleams  of  liirht  flash- 
td.forth  every  now  and  then,  with  tremblings  as  if  an  earthquake  liad  shaken  the 
edifice;  sometimes  these  coruscations  continued  lonir  enough  to  discover  all  the 
Rpleiidir  of  llie  shrines  and  imaijes,  accompanied  with  voices  in  coiicerl,  danciiiirs, 
and  music;  at  other  times,  during  the  darkness,  severities  were  exerciseil  upon 
the  initialed  bv  persons  unseen  ;  they  were  drnirired  to  the  crround  by  the  hair  of 
their  heads,  and  beaten  and  lashed  with  stripes,  without  knowing  from  whom  the 
blows  [iroceeded,  or  why  they  were  inflicted  :  lightnings,  and  Ihiinderings,  and 
dreadful  apparitions  were  occasionally  played  off,  with  every  invention  to  terrify 
and  astonish;  at  length,  upon  a  voice  crying  out  some  barbarous,  unintelligible 
words,  the  ceremony  was  concluded,  and  the  initiated  <lisinissed.  The  garment 
which  he  wore  upon  lliis  occasion  was  not  lo  be  laid  aside  while  it  would  hang 
toirt'iher,  .-md  the  shreds  were  then  to  be  dedicated  at  some  shrine,  as  a  tallen^d 
trophy  of  the  due  performance  of  the  mysteries  of  Ceres.  These  mysteries  were 
'.leld  in  such  general  respect,  that  it  afforded  creat  cause  of  reproach  a<rainst 
Socrates  for  Inviiiir  neglected  his  initiatinu.  The  vows  of  secrecy,  and  the  pen- 
alties to  be  inflicted  f>n  their  violaiion,  were  as  binding  as  could  possibly  be  devis 
ed.  ' — Cumberland's  Observer,  Vol.  v.  No.  115. 


70  ir.MVEiiSAK  iiisTOUY.  [book  1 

It  ij  |)i.iK'i|)ally  "11  the  age  of  Tliesmis,  that  the  Creeks  have 
ii.duli^L'd  their  vein  fur  the  marvellous.  Every  thing  is  supernauiraJ, 
and  every  gieal  man  is  either  a  god  or  a  demi-god.  Tlie  most 
prohahle  soinee  of  lliis  I  conceive  to  be,  that  the  j)rinces,  who  had 
then  hecome  really  powerful,  and  exercised  a  high  control  over 
their  suhjecls,  taking  advantage  of  the  snjjerstitious  (  haraoter  uf  the 
limes,  and  of  the  people's  credulity,  assinned  to  themselves  a  divine 
origin,  in  order  the  better  to  support  their  new  authority.  Having 
at  a  1  times  the  priests  under  their  influence,  they  could  do  this 
witii  great  facility,  by  instituting  relisious  riles  in  honor  of  their 
divine  progenitors;  and  if  they  could  thus  prevail  so  far  as  to  j)a3s 
with  their  contemporaries  for  the  offspring  of  the  gods,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  succeeding  ages  should  retain  the  same  idea  of 
them,  and  decorate  their  lives  and  exploits  with  a  thousand  ciiLum- 
stances  of  fabulous  embellishment. 

But  the  taking  of  Troy  is  the  era  when  the  marvellous  part  of 
the  Grecian  history  ceases  all  at  once.  The  reason  appears  to  be 
this:  —  the  absence  of  the  kings  and  chiefs  at  this  tedious  siege 
involved  the  several  stales  in  great  disorders.  Many  of  these  prin- 
ces were  slain,  or  perished  by  shipwreck;  others  were  assassinated 
or  deposed.  The  few  who  survived  found  every  thing  in  misery 
and  confusion,  the  country  lavaged,  the  people  pillaged  and  op- 
pressed. In  this  state  of  things,  the  mind,  awake  only  to  real 
calamities  and  sufferings,  is  little  disposed  to  indulge  itself  in 
romantic  and  poetic  fictions.  The  games,  which  cherished  that 
spirit,  were  for  many  years  interrupted,  and  when  again  renewed, 
the  more  enlightened  character  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  decline  of 
that  superstitious  turn  of  mind  which  disposes  to  the  love  of  the 
marvellous,  had  drawn  a  distinct  line  of  separation  between  fiction 
and  authentic  history. 

But  even  in  the  latter  pari  of  the  fabulous  period,  there  are 
some  events  of  which  the  great  outlines  are  sufTicienily  authentic, 
and  which,  as  strongly  characteristic  of  the  genius,  spirit,  and 
manners  of  the  times,  are  too  important  to  be  passed  over  widiout 
some  reflections.  The  expedition  of  the  Argonauts,  the  sieges  of 
Thebes  and  of  Troy,  are  very  singular  enterprises  in  so  rude  a 
period  of  society. 

The  Greeks,  among  other  arts  which  they  learned  from  the 
Plui?nicians,  were  indebted  to  them  for  ihat  of  navigation;  and 
they  had  not  been  long  in  possession  of  this  art  before  they  ])ut 
it  in  practice  in  a  very  bold  experiment.  The  voyage  of  the 
Argonauts  to  Colchis  was  undeilaken  12S0  years  before  the  Chris- 
tian era,  according  to  Usher's  Chronology,  and  937  according  to 
that  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton;  and,  when  all  its  circumstances  are  con- 
sidered, was  certainly  a  very  remarkable  enterprise.  What  was 
the  real  purpose  of  the  voyage,  is  extremely  difficult  to  be  deter- 
mined. The  poets  have  feigned  a  variety  of  fabulous  cu'cumstan- 
ces,  both  of  the  enterprise  and  of  its  object;  but  among  the  ser" 


en.   VIM.]  THK     ARGONAUTS.  71 

ous  opinions  of  the  best  informed  writers,  the  most  probable  seems 
to  be  that  of  Eustathius,  who  conjectures  this  voyage  to  liave 
been  both  a  military  and  a  mercantile  expedition.  The  object,  In 
his  opinion,  was  to  open  to  the  Greeks  the  commerce  of  the  Eux- 
iae  Sea,  and  to  secure  some  establishments  upon  its  Asiatic  coasts. 
For  these  purposes  a  fleet  anil  troops  were  necessary.  The 
armament  consisted  of  many  shii)s,  of  which  Argo^  the  largest, 
was  50  cubits,  or  75  feet,  in  length  ;  about  the  size  of  a  modern 
vessel  of  200  tons  burden.  A  number  of  heroes  from  every  quar- 
ter of  Greece  joined  in  the  expedition — the  fathers  of  those  brave 
warriors  who  afterwards  distinguished  themselves  at  the  siege  of 
Troy. 

The  Argonauts,  under  the  command  of  Jason,  set  sail  from  the 
ooast  of  Thessaly.  Their  expedition  was  lengthened  by  unfavora- 
ble weather,  unskilful  seamen,  and  the  consequent  necessity  of  keep- 
inp;  as  near  as  possible  to  the  coasts.  The  variety  of  adventures 
tvliich  they  met  with  in  touching  at  many  different  islands  and 
ports  in  the  course  of  their  voyage,  have  furnished  amjile  matter 
of  poetical  fiction,  resting  on  a  slender  basis  of  truth.  Apollonius 
Rhodius,  in  Greek,  and  Valerius  Flaccus,  in  Latin  heroics,  have 
sung  the  exploits  of  the  Argonauts  with  no  mean  powers  of  po- 
etry. The  outlines  of  their  expedition  may  be  very  shortly 
detailed.  From  the  isle  of  Lemnos,  where  they  made  some  stay, 
th(!y  proceeded  to  Sainothracc.  Thence  sailing  round  the  Cher- 
soiiesus,  they  entered  the  Hellespont ;  and  keeping  along  the 
coast  of  Asia,  touched  at  Cyzicus,  and  spent  some  time  on  the 
coast  of  Bithynia  ;  thence  they  entered  the  Thracian  Bosphorus. 
and  proceeding  onward  through  the  Euxine,  at  length  discovered 
Caucasus  at  its  eastern  extremity.  This  mountain  was  their  land- 
mark, which  directed  them  to  the  port  of  Phasis  near  to  Oea, 
then  the  chief  city  of  Colchis,  which  was  the  ultimate  object  of 
their  voyage.  Following  the  Argonauts  through  this  tract  of  sea, 
and  coasting  it  as  they  must  have  done,  it  appears  evident  that 
they  performed  a  voyage  of  at  least  440  leagues.  Those  who 
consider  not  the  times  and  the  circumstances  in  which  the  Greeks 
accomplished  this  navigation,  have  not  perceived  the  boldness  of 
tho  enterprise.  These  daring  Greeks  had  been  but  recently  taught 
the  art  of  sailing,  by  the  cxanqilc  of  foreigners  ;  it  was  their  first 
attempt  to  put  it  in  practice.  They  were  utterly  ignorant  of 
navigation  as  a  science ;  and  they  went  to  explore  an  extent  of 
sea  that  was  altogether  unknown  to  them.  Let  us  do  those 
heroes  justice,  and  freely  acknowledge  that  the  voyage  of  the 
Argonauts  was  a  noble  enterprise  for  the  times  in  which  it  was 
executed. 


Prcjinratory   to   this    remarkable    voyage,    the    Argonaut;   were 
furnished  with  instructions  bv  Chiron    the  astronomer,  who  framed 


72  iNivr.itsAL  iiisioitv.  [book  I 

for  tlieir  use  a  sclicinc  of  the  cnustclliuions,  giving  a  dincrmiiiod 
place  to  ilic  sfilstitial  and  efjiiinoctial  points;  the  former  in  tlie 
15th  degrees  of  Cancer  and  Capricorn,  and  the  latter  in  the  15ih 
degrees  of  Aries  and  I.ibra.  This  recorded  fact*  has  served  as 
tiie  basis  of  an  emendation  of  the  ancient  chronology  by  Sir  Isaac 
Newton,  of  which  I  shall  here  give  a  short  account. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton's  amend(}d  chronology  is  built  upon  two  sep- 
aratespcci(!s  of  proofs:  first,  on  an  estimate  of  the  medium  length 
of  the  generations  of  nieji,  or  of  the  lives  of  the  kings  taken  in  suc- 
cession, which  former  chronologists  had  enlarged  very  much  be- 
yond the  truth  ;  secondly,  on  a  calculation  instituted  from  tho 
regular  procession  of  the  equinoxes.  As  to  the  first  mode  of 
proof,  it  may  be  observed,  that  when  we  are  accurately  inforn)ed 
from  history  that  a  certain  number  of  generations  intervened,  or  a 
certain  number  of  sovereigns  reigned,  between  any  two  events, 
we  are  enabled  to  ascertain  pretty  nearly  the  length  of  that  inter- 
val, provided  we  can  fix  ujion  a  reasonable  nimiber  of  years  as  the 
medium  length  of  the  generations  of  man,  or  the  reigns  of  a  suc- 
cession of  princes:  a  medium  or  average  which  is  to  be  formed 
from  a  comparison  of  the  successions  of  the  sovereigns  in  the 
authenticated  periods  of  modern  and  ancient  history. 

Between  the  return  of  the  Heraclidte  into  Peloponnesus  atid 
the  battle  of  Thermopylae,  the  date  of  which  last  event  is  well 
ascertained,  though  the  former  is  not,  there  reigned  a  succession 
of  seventeen  kings  in  one  branch  of  the  sovereignty  of  Lacedas- 
kHon,  and  the  same  number  in  the  other.  Now,  by  comjiaring 
together  a  variety  of  authenticated  successions  of  sovereigns  in 
ancient  and  modern  times,  it  is  found  that  the  medium  duration  of 
each  reign  is  from  eighteen  to  twenty  years.  The  seventeen 
princes,  therefore,  who  filled  the  interval  above-mentioned,  must, 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  years  for  each  sovereign,  have  reigned  340 
years.  These,  computed  backwards  from  the  sixth  year  of 
Xerxes,  and  allowing  one  or  two  years  more  for  the  war  of  the 
Ileraclida?,  and  the  reign  of  Arislodemu*,  the  father  of  Eurysthenes 
and  Proclus,  will  place  the  return  of  the  Heraclida;  into  Pelopon 
nesus  150  years  after  the  death  of  Solomon,  and  forty-six  before 
the  first  Olympiad,  in  which  Chorabus  was  victor.  Instead  of 
this  moderate  estimate,  which  is  founded  on  rational  data,  the 
ancient  chronologists,  and  their  followers  among  the  moderns,  have 
assigned  a  space  of  thirty-five  or  forty  years  to  each  PO\erci'gn, 
which  is  double  the  true  average  calculation,  and  have  thus  j)laced 
the  return  of  the  Heraclidae  280  years  farther  back  than  its  true 
date. 

Mr.   Hooke,  in  his  Roman  Historj',  has,  upon  these  data,  cor- 


•  See,  however,  the  reasons  for  questioning   the  authenticity  of  this  fact  in 
Goguct,  t.  ii.  b.  3.  sect.  2. 


rii.  viii.]  newton's  chronology  73 

rected  the  chronology  of  ihe  RomanJiistory  under  ihc  kings;  and 
has  shown  that  the  assignment  of  nineteen  or  twenty  years  to 
each  of  the  seven  kings,  is  more  consistent  with  the  series  of 
events  recorded  in  that  period,  than  the  ordinary  computation 
given  by  historians,  wiiich  supposes  each  of  those  princes  to  iiave 
reigned  at  a  medium  thirty-five  years.  If,  by  the  same  moderate 
estimate,  the  succession  of  the  kings  who  reigned  at  Alba  be 
compared  with  that  of  the  kings  at  Rome,  this  compulation  will 
fix  the  coming  of  ^T^neas  into  Italy,  and  the  era  of  the  siege  of 
Troy,  exactly  at  the  period  to  which  the  estimate  of  generations 
in  the  Greek  annals  would  assign  those  events. 

The  second  mode  of  proof  on  which  Sir  Isaac  Newton  has 
built  his  emendation  of  the  ancient  chronology,  and  which  gives 
great  additional  strength  to  the  former,  is  that  which  is  founded 
on  the  regular  procession  of  the  equinoxes.  This  procession  is 
known,  by  a  series  of  the  most  accurate  observations,  to  be  at  the 
rate  of  one  degree  in  seventy-two  years;  that  is,  the  sun  crosses 
the  ecliptic  so  much  more  to  the  west  every  succeeding  year,  that 
at  the  end  of  seventy-two  years  his  progress  westward  amounts  to 
one  degree;  by  which,  means  it  happens,  that  the  places  of  the 
equinox  are  continually  receding  from  the  constellations  in  the 
middle  of  which  they  were  originally  found  at  the  time  of  the 
earliest  observations.  Whenever,  therefore,  the  situation  of  the 
equinoctial  or  solstitial  points,  or  any  appearance  d{'|)eniling  on 
tf)em,  is  mentioned,  it  is  easy  to  ascertain  the  time  of  any  event 
with  which  such  an  appearance  was  connected:  for  we  have  only 
to  observe  how  many  degrees  the  equinoctial  points  were  then 
distant  from  their  present  j)Osition,  and  to  allow  seventy-two  years 
for  each  degree.  If  we  can  depend  upon  the  historical  fact  that 
the  astronomer  Chiron  found  that  the  two  colures  cut  the  ecliptic 
exactly  in  the  cardinal  points,  at  the  time  of  the  Argonautic  expe- 
dition, it  was  a  fair  inference  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  wiien  he  found, 
in  the  year  1689,  that  these  colures  cut  the  ecliptic  at  the  dis- 
tance of  ]'  C)^  29'  from  their  original  position,  and  were  then 
found  to  intersect  it  in  8  G°  29',  9,  6°  29',  and  "^  6°  29,  ^  G'^ 
29,  this  advancement  or  procession  being  known  to  go  on  at  the 
rate  of  a  de;iree  in  seventy-two  years,  the  length  of  the  interven- 
ing space  must  therefore  have  been  exactly  2G27  years;  which 
fixes  the  Argonautic  expedition  to  928  d.  c. 


After  this  first  successful  experiment,  we  sliall  find  ilie  (Jreeks 
turn  their  attention  more  particularly  to  maritime  affairs;  and  we 
may  judge  of  their  progress  by  tlie  fleet  which  was  assembled 
thirty-five  years  after  the  Argonautic  expedition,  for  trans|)orting 
the  troojjs  to  the  siege  of  Troy.  Yet  still  it  was  not  till  the  war 
vvitl'i  the  Persians  that  the  Greek  marine  became  an  object  of  seri- 
ous importance!.  The  na\al  victory  of  Salamis  showed  to  what  a 
height  it  had  then  attained.  At  this  battle,  the  united  lleet  of 
VOL.    I.  10 


>  ■  UNIVERSAL    IIISTORV.  [llOOK    I 

Alliens  and  Spnrta  ainonntcd  to  3S0  sail;  that  of  llic  Persians  W 
no  loss  than  1200.  The  size  of  these  ships  is  not  certainly 
known;  *  but  there  is  one  circiinistance  from  uliicli  a  conjecture 
may  be  formed,  the  port  of  Pirceus,  at  Athens,  was,  according  to 
the  account  of  ancient  writers,  particularly  Strabo,  capable  of  con- 
taining 400  ships;  but  this  harbor,  in  the  opinion  of  VVheclcr 
and  otJKT  modern  writers,  could  not  easily  contain  above  fifty  of 
our  middle-sized  trading  vessels. f 

The  slate  of  the  military  art  at  the  same  period  forms  a  preit} 
curious  object  of  inquiry.  The  war  of  Thebes,  and  that  of  Troy, 
arc  remarkable  events  in  the  age  of  which  we  now  treat,  and  are, 
therefore,  proper  criteria  by  which  we  may  form  a  judgment  of 
the  state  of  that  art  at  this  time  in  Greece.  The  first  wars  men- 
tioned in  Grecian  history  deserve  no  particular  attention:  they 
were  probably  little  else  than  predatory  excursions  of  barbarous 
tribes,  to  ravage  the  lands  and  carry  ofl"  the  flocks  of  their  neigh- 
bors. The  country,  in  those  times,  was  open  and  defenceless; 
the  towns  a  collection  of  rude  huts,  incapable  of  resisting  assault, 
and  unseciu'ed  by  any  regular  enclosure  or  fortification.  At  the 
time  of  the  siege  of  Thebes,  the  state  of  the  country  was  ex- 
tremely different;  as  we  may  judge  from  the  preparations  of  the 
Argives,  their  dispositions  to  besiege  the  city,  and  the  duration  of 
the  war. 

ffidipus  had  two  sons,  Eteocles  and  Polyniccs,  to  whom  jointly 
he  bequeathed  the  sovereignly  of  Thebes.  Instead  of  dividing 
the  kmgdom,  they  agreed  to  govern  it  year  after  year  alternately. 
Eteocles,  at  the  expiration  of  his  term,  refusing  to  resign,  Polyni- 
ces  solicited  the  aid  of  Adrastus,  king  of  Argus,  who  espoused  bis 
cause,  engaged  several  of  ihe  princes  of  Greece  to  assist  him,  and 
marched  against  the  Thebans  with  a  powerful  army.  They 
retreated  before  the  enemy,  and  betook  themselves  to  their  city, 
which  Adrastus  immediately  took  measures  for  assailing.  This  is 
the  first  siege  mentioned  in  the  Grecian  history,  whence  we  may 
suppose  that  the  arts  of  attack,  and  the  contrivances  for  defence, 
would  be  equally  rude  and  unskilful.  The  only  object  of  the 
besiegers  was  to  blockade  the  city,  to  prevent  the  inhabitants 
from  making  sallies,  and  culling  off  all  succors  from  the  surround- 
ing country.  For  this  purpose,  as  they  knew  not  the  art  of  draw- 
ing lines  of  circumvallaiion,  they  formed  a  large  cainp  at  a  small 
distance  from  the  ciiy,  as  a  security  for  the  baggage  and  provisions 
of  the  army,  and  a  retreat  so  fortified  that  they  could  defend  them- 
selves in  ii,  in  case  of  a  repulse  and  attack  on  the  part  of  the  be- 


*  The  ships  of  the  Greeks,  at  the  time  of  the  war  of  Troy,  had  no  keel,  and 
only  one   mast,  which  was  lowered  upon  the  deck  when  the   ship   was  in  port 

GiKjiiel,  vol.  ii.  b.  4,  c.  iv. 

t  The  iarirest  ships  mentioned  by  Homer  are  those  of  the  Bceotians,  wiiicu 
carried  120  men.— 11.  1.  2. 


en.    VIII.]  WAR     OF     THEBES.  76 

sieged.  Tliey  then  divided  their  army  into  dilTercnt  bodies,  each 
of  which  had  the  charge  of  assaiihing  a  })articiilar  gate  or  entry  tc 
the  city.  It  does  not  appear  tiiat  tlicy  ever  attempted  an  esca- 
lade, or  endeavored  to  eti'ect  a  breach  in  tlie  walls;  but  content- 
ed themselves  with  directing  their  efforts  against  the  gates  alone. 
These  they  endeavored  to  force,  but  were  as  often  beat  back  by 
a  sally  from  the  besieged,  and  forced  to  retreat  to  their  camp, 
where  they  sustain  a  siege  in  their  turn.  In  this  way,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  the  siege  of  a  large  city  was  protracted  for  years 
Thebes,  after  a  long  siege,  gave  no  hopes  of  surrender;  both  par- 
lies becau)e  tired  of  the  war,  and  it  was  at  length  agreed  to  termi- 
nate it  by  a  single  combat  between  the  rival  brothers,  Eteocles  and 
Polynices;  an  issue  for  the  quarrels  of  sovereign  princes,  which 
the  humane  reader  of  history  will  often  find  reason  to  wish  had 
been  more  frequently  resorted  to.  The  brothers  fought  under  the 
walls  of  Thebes,  and  were  botii  killed. 

I  cannot  avoid  here  observing,  that  the  ancients  appear  to  have 
entertained,  on  some  points,  notions  of  morality,  which  to  our 
apjireliension  seem  very  extraordinary.  The  conduct  of  Eteocles 
in  defrauding  his  brother  of  his  alternate  right  of  sovereignty,  ad- 
mits, according  to  our  notions  of  justice,  of  no  apology.  It  was 
perfidious  in  the  highest  degree.  Yet  the  Greek  poets  who  have 
treated  of  this  story,  iEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides,  all  agree 
in  condemning  Polynices,  whom  they  judge  unworthy  of  the 
honors  of  s'^pullure,  for  having  troubled  the  repose  of  his  coun- 
try by  a  war.  Similar  to  this  is  the  judgment  of  the  same  poets 
upon  tiie  character  of  (Edipus,  who  is  held  forth  as  an  object  of 
the  just  vengeance  of  the  gods,  and  condemned  for  his  crimes  to 
Tartarus,  because  he  ignorantly  slew  his  father  in  a  justifiable 
quarrel,  and  innocently  married  his  mother,  w^hom  he  knew  not. 
Such,  likewise,  is  their  opinion  of  the  criminality  of  Orestes,  who 
was  with  difficulty  acquitted  by  the  Areopagus,  and  is  feigned  to 
be  incessantly  tormented  by  the  Furies,  for  having  rexenged  on 
his  mother  Clytemnestra  and  her  adulterous  gallant  .'Egisthus,  the 
murder  of  his  father  Agamemnon.  It  is  no  apology  to  say,  as 
some  critics  have  done,  that  the  poets  chose  those  subjects  where 
an  innocent  person  is  represented  as  the  victim  of  heavenly  ven- 
geance, because  they  gave  greater  exercise  to  the  emotions  of 
terror  and  pity.  The  poets,  in  reality,  did  not  allow  the  innocence 
of  those  persons;  on  the  contrary,  they  plainly  condemn  them  as 
guilty,  and  justify  their  punishment. 

The  death  of  Eteocles  and  Polynices  did  not  terminate  the 
Theban  war.  It  was  renewed  by  Crcon,  their  uncle,  who,  after 
a  successful  battle,  having  refused  Adrastus  leave  to  bury  the 
dead,  that  prince  implored  the  aid  of  the  Athenians,  tlien  governed 
by  Theseus,  who,  to  avenge  the  cause  of  humanity,  joined  his 
forces  to  those  of  the  Argives,  and  compelled  Creon  to  enter  into 
terms  of  peace.     Some  years  after,  the  war  broke  out  anew  on 


7G  UNIVKRSAI,    IlISTORV.  [book    I 

llie  part  of  tlie  Argivcs.  The  sons  of  those  rommanders  wlio 
had  fallen  (Inline;  the  sicjie  of  Thehcs  deterinincd  to  revenge  the 
deaths  of  their  fathers.  Tiiis  was  termed  the  war  of  the  Ejnironoi, 
lliat  is,  the  descendants  or  sons  of  the  former.  They  were  joined 
hy  the  Mcssenians  and  Arcadians,  Corinlliians  and  Megareans. 
The  particulars  of  this  war  it  is  needless  to  trace;  it  was  of  long 
duration.  The  Tliel)ans  lost  a  decisive  battle  on  tiie  banks  of  the 
ii-'»:r  Glissas:  they  retreated  into  Thebes;  tlic  city  was  attacked, 
taken  by  storm,  and  entirely  destroyed  by  the  conquerors.  Pau- 
saniifs  mentions  an  epic  poem  on  tiie  subject  of  this  war,  which 
some  writers  have  ascribed  to  Homer.  "  I  own,"  says  Pausanias, 
"  that,  next  to  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  I  have  not  seen  a  finer 
work."     Unfortunately,  it  has  not  reached  our  days. 

The  detail  of  the  war  of  Troy  rests  chiefly  on  the  authority  of 
Homer;  whose  work,  though  embellished  with  fiction,  must  not 
in  its  great  outlines  be  refused  the  credit  of  a  real  history.  The 
poet,  it  is  true,  lived,  as  is  generally  supposed,  at  some  distance  of 
time  from  tiie  events  which  lie  relates;  1G8  years  by  the  account 
of  Herodotus;  between  two  and  three  centuries  in  the  opinion  of 
otiier  writers;  but  by  the  computation  of  Sir  Isaac  Newion,  his 
birth  is  placed  only  28  years  after  the  taking  of  Troy.  But 
allowing  him  to  have  lived  at  a  considerable  interval  of  time  from 
the  events  which  he  relates,  it  is  agreed  among  the  ancient  writers 
that  he  followed  the  relations  of  other  authors,  wliose  works,  tiiough 
now  lost,  were  known  to  the  ancients,  and  esteemed  of  siiHlcient 
authority.  Several  of  the  principal  events  of  the  Trojan  war  are 
likewise  authenticated  by  the  Arundelian  marbles.  The  Chron- 
icle of  Paros  fixes  both  the  commencement  of  the  siege  and  its 
termination;  the  former  in  the  13th  year  of  Menestheus,  king  of 
Athens,  and  the  latter  in  the  22d  year  of  the  same  prince.  Tiie 
latter  date  corresponds  to  the  year  1 184  b.  c,  according  to  Ushei  's 
Chronology,  and  904  B.  c.  according  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton's. 

The  immediate  cause  of  the  war  is  generally  allowed  to  have 
been  the  rape  of  Helen,  the  wife  of  Menelaus,  by  Paris,  the  son 
of  Priam,  king  of  Troy;  although  prior  to  that  motive  an  aniino- 
siry  had  subsisted  between  tiie  Greeks  and  Trojans  for  many  gen- 
erations. It  is  not  otherwise  probable,  that  a  quarrel  which  'nter- 
ested  only  Menelaus  and  his  brother  Agamemnon,  siiould  have 
been  readily  espoused  by  all  the  princes  of  Greece.  The  prepara- 
tions for  this  war  are  said  to  have  occuj)ied  no  less  than  ten  years; 
a  length  of  lime  which  ought  not  to  surprise  us,  when  we  consider 
that  this  was  the  first  war  in  which  the  whole  nation  had  engaged. 
We  may  therefore  look  upon  this  enterprise  as  a  pro|ier  test  to 
jiidge  of  the  state  of  the  military  art  at  this  period  in  Greece. 
The  time  of  pre])aration  was  employed  in  uniting  the  forces  of 
tiie  different  princes,  and  in  equipjiing  a  fleet  to  trans|)ort  them 
nto  Asia.  The  troops,  when  assembknl,  amounted,  according  to 
the  estimate  of  Thucydides,  to  about  100,000  men.     In  a  general 


en.  VIII. J  .      TUOJAX    WAK.  71 

assembly  of  the  States  held  at  Argos,  or  Mycenrr,  the  chief  com- 
mand was  conferred  on  Agamemnon,  king  of  Mycenrr,  Sicyon, 
and  Corinth;  and  all  the  princes  of  Greece  engaged  by  oath  to 
range  themselves  under  his  banners,  and  to  furnish  their  contingent 
of  men  and  ships.  The  preparations  on  the  part  of  the  Trojans 
were  equally  formidable.  Priam,  whose  territories  were  consid 
arable,  extending  from  the  isle  of  Tenedos  to  U|)})er  Phrygia,  hac' 
raised  all  his  power,  and  strengthened  himself  by  the  alliance  of 
many  of  the  princes  of  the  lesser  Asia. 

"^I'he  Greeks  embarked  at  Aulis,  opposite  to  EiibcKa,  and  landed 
hi  Asia,  at  the  promontory  of  Sigoeum.  Their  first  operation, 
after  beating  back  the  enemy  who  opposed  their  landing,  was  to 
form  a  large  camp  at  some  distance  from  the  city.  The  site  of 
Troy  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been  at  the  distance  of  four 
or  five  miles  from  the  shore,  at  the  foot  of  that  ridge  of  i.ioun' 
tains  which  goes  under  the  name  of  Ida.  The  camp  was  close 
upon  the  sea-shore  for  the  sake  of  the  ships,  which,  as  usual,  were 
drawn  upon  the  land,  and  enclosed  within  the  ramparts  of  the 
camp  ;  one  line  fronting  the  city  and  the  other  the  sea  ;  while 
the  tents  of  the  troops  filled  the  intermediate  space.  Each  petty 
nation  or  tribe  of  the  Greeks  had  its  separate  quarter  of  the  camp; 
which  was  fortified  externally  by  a  high  mound  of  earth,  flanked 
with  wooden  towers.  These  strong  intrenchments  were  necessaiy 
to  secure  the  invading  army  from  the  attacks  of  the  enemy,  who 
acted  as  often  as  they  could  upon  the  offensive,  and  frequently 
assaulted  the  camp.  The  fortifications  of  Troy  consisted,  in  lik(i 
manner,  as  is  generally  believed,  of  nothing  more  than  a  sloping 
wall  of  earth,  flanked  with  wooden  towers.  The  Greeks  attempt- 
ed to  draw  no  lines  of  circumvallation,  nor  were  any  of  those 
engines  of  war  employed  which  came  afterwards  into  use  in 
regular  sieges.  The  chief  object  of  the  Greeks  during  the  first 
nine  years  of  the  war  was  to  ravage  and  plunder  the  country — 
thus  cutting  off  the  sources  of  supply — and  attacking  the  Trojans 
whenever  they  made  a  sally  for  the  purpose  of  foraging,  or 
attempted  to  force  the  enemy's  camp.  The  detail  of  the  chief 
events  of  this  war  is  to  be  found  in  Homer,  with  a  copious  embel- 
lishment of  fiction.  The  spirit  of  the  Trojans  forsook  them  upon 
the  death  of  Hector.  The  city  was  taken  soon  after,  either  by 
storm  or  by  surprise;  and  being  set  on  fire  during  the  night,  was 
burnt  to  the  jrround,  not  a  vestige  of  its  ruins  existing  at  the  pre- 
sent day.  The  miserable  Trojans  perished  either  in  the  flames  oi 
by  the  sword  of  the  Greeks,  and  their  emjSire  and  name  were 
extinguished  for  ever.  About  80  years  after  the  burning  of  Troy,  a 
Grecian  colony  settled  near  to  its  site,  and  the  rest  of  the  kingdom 
formed  part  of  the  territory  of  the  Lydians. 

Nothing  can  show  more  cleaHy  the  rudeness  of  the  military  art, 
at  this  remote  period  of  time,  than  the  instances  of  those  two 
remarkable  sieges  of  Thebes  and  of  Troy.     An  open  war  was  no- 


78  UNIVKKSAI,  HISTORY.  [bOOK   I 

thing  else  llian  a  scries  of  |)liin(lcring  cx|)0(IitIons.  When  a  riiy 
was  to  ho  attacked,  the  country  around  it  was  ravaged,  and  the 
inhabitants  re(hiccd,  if  possible,  to  the  necessity  of  a  surrender 
from  the  want  of  provisions.  If  its  resources  were  considerable, 
while  the  state  of  the  country  at  the  same  time  denied  supplies  to 
the  besiugers,  the  enterprise  must  have  been  abandoned,  unless  it 
succeeded  by  a  straiagcin,  or  the  city  was  betrayed  by  some  of  its 
inhabitants.  If  at  length  it  was  won,  it  was  never  attempted  to 
preserve  the  conquest  by  a  garrison:  the  advantage  gained  was 
usually  secured  by  burning  the  city  to  the  ground.  As  these 
military  expeditions,  seldom  undertaken  at  a  great  distance  from 
home,  were  commonly  made  during  the  spring  and  summer  only, 
the  troops  during  the  winter  remained  at  home  inactive,  and  were 
i^ually  disbanded.  In  a  long-continued  war  at  a  distance,  as  that 
of  Troy,  the  winter  season  was  spent  in  the  camp,  and  there  was 
a  complete  cessation  of  hostilities.  Dictys  of  Crete  informs  us, 
that  the  Greeks  during  the  winter  exercised  themselves  in  a  variety 
of  games,  which  tended  to  relieve  the  anxiety  of  the  troops,  and 
keep  up  the  martial  spirit.  The  game  of  chess  is  snid  to  have 
been  invented  by  Palamedes  during  this  tedious  siege. 

With  respect  to  the  arrangement  of  the  troops  in  order  of  battle, 
and  the  various  military  manoeuvres  then  in  use  among  the  Greeks, 
our  ideas  are  extremely  imperfect.  Homer  frequently  mentions 
an  order  of  battle  under  the  term  phalanx^  but  he  gives  us  no 
description  of  it.  We  see,  indeed,  in  one^place,  that  Nestor  places 
the  cavalry  or  the  chariots  in  front,*  the  infantry  in  the  rear,  and 
the  weakest  of  the  troops  in  the  centre.  In  another  place,  we 
find  the  infantry  in  front,  and  the  cavalry  in  the  rear:  this  shows 
that  they  adopted  a  variety  of  arrangement  according  to  circum- 
stances. It  is  quite  impossible,  from  Homer's  description,  to  have 
any  distinct  idea  of  the  manoeuvres  of  the  troops  during  an  engage- 
ment. He  gives  us  no  plan  of  attack:  we  know  not  whether  the 
armies  charged  in  one  body  or  in  separate  divisions.  We  see  no 
evolutions,  no  rational  movements  of  the  troops  during  the  action, 
nor  any  manoeuvre  which  shows  conduct  or  skill  on  the  part  of  the 
general.  The  chiefs  or  captains  of  the  different  bodies  seem  to 
have  fought  equallv  with  the  private  soldiers,  and  to  be  interested 
only  who  should  kill  most  men.  Homer's  descriptions  are  all  of 
single  combats,  man  to  man;  long  discourses  and  taunting  re- 
proaches between  the  heroes,  ending  in  a  desperate  duel,  without 
any  regard  to  the  situation  of  the  main  army.  It  appears  from 
Homer's  accounts  that  the  Greeks,  in  rushing  on  to   engagement, 


*  'When  rav;\lry  or  Iiorso  aro  mfntioned,  we  are  not  to  understand  thrit  m 
those  armies  there  were  retfvilar  bodies  of  horsemen.  The  horses  were  employ- 
ed only  in  the  drawing  of  cars  or  chariots,  each  usually  containinar  two  men, 
of  whom  one   managed  the   horses   and   the   other   fought. —  Goguet,  t   ii.   b.  T 


CII.    VIII. J  THE    HERACLlDiE.  79 

preserved  a  deep  silence,  wliile  tlie  Trojans,  like  most  other  bar- 
barous nations,  uttered  hideous  shouts  at  the  moment  of  attack. 

How  those  armies  were  subsisted  it  is  not  easy  to  say.  It  is 
certain  that  in  those  times  the  troops  had  no  regular  pay:  they 
served  at  their  own  charges  alone.  The  levies  were  made  by  a 
general  law  obliging  each  family  to  furnish  a  soldier,  under  a  cer- 
tain penalty.  The  only  recompense  for  the  service  of  individuals 
was  their  rated  share  of  the  booty;  for  none  were  allowed  to 
plunder  for  themselves:  every  thing  was  brought  into  a  common 
stock,  and  the  division  was  made  by  the  chiefs,  who  had  a  larger 
proportion  for  their  share. 

The  arms  of  the  troops  were  of  different  kinds.  Their  oflensive 
weapons  were  the  sword  slung  from  the  shoulder,  the  bow  and 
arrows,  the  javelin,  or  short  missile  spear,  the  club,  the  hatchet, 
and  the  sling.  Their  weapons  of  defence  were  an  enormous 
shield  which  defended  almost  the  whole  body,  made  of  thin  metal, 
and  covered  with  the  hide  of  some  animal  ;  an  helmet  of  brass  or 
copper  ;  and  a  cuirass  and  buskins,  with  coverings  for  the  thighs, 
of  the  same  metal.  It  is  proper  to  observe  that  iron,  though 
known  before  this  period,  was  a  rare  metal,  and  accounted  of  high 
value.  Achilles  proposed  a  ball  of  iron  as  one  of  the  prizes  in 
the  funeral-games  which  he  celebrated  in  honor  of  Patroclus.*  It 
was  not  used  in  the  fabrication  of  weapons  of  war.  Tliese  were 
formed  of  copper  hardened  by  an  admixture  of  tin  ;  and  even  in 
much  later  periods  the  Roman  swords  were  of  the  same  compound 
metal. 

On  this  subject,  the  state  of  the  military  art  at  this  period  among 
the  Greeks,  the  President  Goguet  has,  in  vol.  ii.,  book  v.,  ch.  iii., 
of  his  Origin  of  Laws,  &c.,  collected  a  great  mass  of  curious  in- 
formation, to  which  I  beg  leave  to  refer  my  readers.  From  all 
that  can  be  gathered  on  the  subject  it  appears  that  this  art  was 
yet  extremely  rude.  But  practice,  which  matures  all  ai1s,  very 
soon  reduced  this  into  a  system;  and  the  Greeks,  in  a  very  eaj-ly 
period  of  their  history,  seem  to  have  become  greater  j)roficienl3  in 
war  than  any  of  the  civilized  nations. 

About  80  years  after  the  taking  of  Troy,  began  the  war  of  the 
Heraclidae.  Perseus,  the  founder  of  Mycena;,  left  the  crown  to 
his  son  Electryon.  Amphitryon,  die  grandson  of  Perseus,  by 
Alceus,  married  Alcmena,  the  daughter  of  Electryon,  and  thus 
"bunded  a  double  title  of  succession  to  that  sovereignty;  but  l:av- 
ng  involuntarily  killed  his  fadier-in-law,  he  was  obliged  to  fly  his 
country,  while  the  sceptre  was  seized  by  his  uncle  Sdienelus,  the 
Drother  of  Electryon.  By  this  act  of  usurpation,  Hercules,  the 
son  of  Amphitryon  and  Alcmena,  was  excluded  from  the  throne 
of  Mycenrc.      Eurysthcus,   the  son    and    successor  of   Slhenelus, 


•  Iliad,  1. 23. 


aO  UMVF.nsAI.    IIISTOI'.V.  [dOOK    I 

fMidoavorcd  to  (l<!slroy  Ilorculcs,  by  exposing  liiin  to  mimbcrloss 
perilous  enterprises  ;  and  continuing  afterwards  liis  jjersocution 
against  his  children,  made  war  against  the  Athenians,  who  pro- 
tected them  ;  but  he  was  defeated  and  slain.  This  event  opened 
the  Peloponnesus  to  the  Heraclidae,  or  descendants  of  Hercules, 
wjio  were  in  the  train  of  subduing  the  country  when  they  were 
influenced  by  the  weakest  superstition.  They  retreated  upon  the 
res|)onse  of  an  oracle,  which  declared  that  their  absence  was  the 
only  means  of  relieving  Greece  from  the  ravages  of  a  pestilence. 
Thyllus,  the  son  of  Hercules,  deceived  by  some  ambiguous  ex- 
pressions of  the  oracle,  returned  after  three  years,  and  was  killed 
in  a  single  combat,  by  which  he  chose  to  decide  the  fate  of  the 
contending  parties.  It  was  on  his  death  agreed  that  the  Hera- 
(•lid?e  should  not  for  50,  or,  as  others  say,  100  years,  return  to 
Peloponnesus. 

That  term  being  expired,  Cresphontes  and  Aristodemus,  the 
descendants  of  Hercules,  by  Hyllus,  returned,  and  found  Tesa- 
menes,  the  son  of  Orestes,  possessed  of  the  kingdoms  of  Argos. 
MycenjE,  and  Lacedremon.  They  overcame  this  prince,  and  took 
possession  of  his  states;  Cresphontes  seizing  Mycena;,  Temenes 
Argos,  and  the  two  sons  of  Aristodemus,  Eurysthenes  and  Procles, 
dividing  Lacedaemon.  The  last  is  an  important  fact,  as  shall  after- 
wards be  mentioned. 

These  wars  miserably  ravaged  Greece,  and  threw  it  back  into 
barbarism.  The  states  became  once  more  detached  and  weak, — 
the  petty  chiefs  exercising  the  most  despotic  control,  and  follow- 
ing the  barbarous  policy  of  maintaining  constant  war  witJi  their 
neighbors  to  make  their  own  office  be  felt  as  necessary.  But 
matters  were  gradually  verging  to  a  crisie;  and  from  the  insupport- 
able tyranny  of  those  despots,  the  very  name  of  king  (tijrannos) 
became  at  length  universally  odious.  Thebes  was  the  first  of  the 
states  which  declared  for  a  popular  government,  and  others  soon 
followed  her  example.  The  following  event  was  the  immediate 
occasion  of  this   revolution: 

The  Heraclidae,  in  their  war  against  the  Athenians,  had  been 
assured  of  success  by  the  oracle,  provided  they  did  not  kill  Codrus, 
then  king  of  Athens.  In  their  attack  on  the  Athenian  territory, 
they  determined,  if  possible,  to  preserve  the  life  of  the  sovereign; 
but  this  generous  patriot,  who  had  learned  the  importance  of  the 
sacrifice,  resolved  to  devote  himself  for  his  country  ; — he  disguised 
himself  like  a  peasant,  and  purposely  quarrelling  with  a  soldier  of 
the  hostile  army,  procured  the  death  he  wished.  The  Heraclida?, 
a  second  time  the  dupes  of  an  oracle,  retired,  not  daring  to  fight 
against  the  Fates.  Medon  and  Nileus,  the  sons  of  Codrus,  dis- 
puted the  succession  to  the  crown ;  but  the  Athenians,  though 
justly  venerating  the  memory  of  Codrus,  and  honoring  his  blood 
were  weary  of  monarchy.  Thev  determined  to  establish  a  demo 
rracy;  but  fiom  respect  to  their  last  prince,  they  conferred  on  his 


CH.    VIII.]  GREEK   COLOMES.  8! 

son,  Medon,  the  office  of  first  magistrate,  under  the  title  of  archon^ 
or  the  commander.  This  is  the  commencement  of  the  Athenian 
Republic,  about  1068  b.  c.  Of  its  political  structure  we  shall 
afterwards  particularly  treat. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Greeks,  weak  as  they  were,  began 
to  form  distant  colonies.  Perhaps  we  ought  rather  to  say,  that  it 
was  this  very  weakness,  and  the  oppression  which  they  suffered  at 
home,  that  forced  many  of  them  to  abandon  their  country,  and  to 
seek  refuge  in  other  lands.  A  wandering  people  who  have  but 
lately  become  stationary,  or  a  nation  partly  composed  of  foreigners, 
ingrafting  themselves  on  the  ancient  inhabitants,  have  not  that 
affection  for  a  natal  soil  which  is  so  strongly  felt  by  an  indigenour. 
people  who  have  for  a  long  period  ,c^  time  peaceably  inhabited  a 
civilized  country.  Recently  brought  under  control,  and  impatient 
of  oppression  from  the  remembrance  of  their  former  freedom,  the 
least  attempt  to  straighten  tht  chain  which  confines  them,  disposes 
them  immediately  to  shake  it  off.  If  too  weak  at  once  to  break 
their  fetters,  they  withdraw  themselves  from  their  bondage,  and 
relinquish  all  connection  with  a  government  to  which  thev  do  not 
incline  to  submit. 

Such  was  the  case  at  this  time  with  many  of  the  Grecian  «tates. 
The  oppression  they  suffered  from  the  tyranny  of  their  de. .ots, 
and  the  miseries  of  continual  war,  either  with  their  neighbors  or 
between  their  domestic  factions,  forced  great  multitudes  in  despair 
to  abandon  their  country,  and  to  transport  themselves  to  the  neigh- 
boring continent  of  Asia,  which  the  Trojan  war  had  laid  open  to 
them.  A  large  body  of  the  ^olians  from  Pelojionnesus  landed 
in  the  opposite  country  and  founded  twelve  cities,  of  which  Smyrna 
was  the  most  considerable.  Nileus,  the  son  of  Codrus,  probably 
impatient  of  submission  where  he  thought  he  had  an  equal  title  to 
rule,  carried  over  into  Asia  a  large  body  of  the  disaffected  Athe 
nians,  reinforced  by  some  lonians  from  the  Peloponnesus;  and  he, 
too,  founded  twelve  cities,  of  which  the  most  considerable  were 
Ej)hesus,  Miletus,  Colophon,  and  Clazomene.  This  territory,  rx 
compliment  to  his  associates  from  Peloponnesus,  he  termed  Ionia, 
the  name  of  their  original  country.  War,  therefore,  and  domestic 
oppressions,  gave  rise  to  many  of  the  Grecian  colonies,  which 
afte  wards  came  to  be  great  and  powerful  states.  Other  colonics, 
however,  had  a  different  origin.  In  the  more  advanced  and  flour- 
ishing periods  of  the  mother  country,  the  narrow  territory  possessed 
by  each  of  the  states,  and  the  increased  population,  compelled 
them  to  send  off  the  inhabitants  in  quest  of  new  settlements.  Thus 
the  Dorians  sent  off  colonies  to  Italy  and  Sicily,  which  founded 
the  cities  of  Tarentum  and  Locri  in  the  former;  and  in  the  latter, 
Sijracnse  and  .fJgrigpvtinn.  Colonies  afterwards,  of  the  same 
people,  betook  themselves  to  the  islands  of  Crete,  Rhodes,  and 
Cos;  and  others  passing  into  Asia,  where  many  of  their  country- 
men where  already  established,   founded   Ilaiicarnassiis,    CnidxiSy 

VOL.    1.  11 


82  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK    I. 

and  several  Other  cities.  Dr.  Adam  Smith,  in  his  "Wealth  of 
Nations,"  in  treating  this  suhje(  t  of  the  Greek  colonization,  has 
justly  remarked  that  with  regard  to  these  new  settlements,  the 
mother  city,  though  she  considered  the  colony  as  a  child  at  all 
limes  eniiiled  to  gieat  favor  and  assistance,  and  owing  in  retnrri 
much  gratitude  and  respect,  yet  viewed  it  as  an  emancipated  child, 
over  whom  she  })relended  to  claim  no  direct  authority  or  jurisdic- 
tion. The  colony  settled  its  own  form  of  government,  enacted  its 
own  laws,  and  made  peace  or  war  with  its  neighbors  as  an  inde- 
jierident  state,  which  had  no  occasion  to  wait  for  the  consent  or 
sanction  of  the  mother  city. 

Those  colonies  which  Greece  sent  abroad  in  her  more  advanced 
periods,  from  an  excessive  in^ease  of  population,  were  observed 
to  make  a  most  rapid  progres^  and  soon  become  great  and  flour- 
shin~  states.  Dr.  Smith  has  accounted  for  this  fact  with  his  usual 
sai<"iC  ly;  and  I  make  no  scruple  to  adopt  his  observations. 

"  The  colony  of  a  civilized  nation  which  takes  possession  cither 
of  a  waste  country,  or  of  one  so  thinly  inhabited  that  the  native-j 
easily  give  place  to  the  new  settlers,  advances  more  rapidly  to 
wcahh  and  greatness  than  any  other  human  society.  The  colonists 
carry  out  with  them  a  knowledge  of  agriculture  and  of  other  useful 
arts,  superior  to  what  can  grow  up  of  its  own  accord  in  the  course 
of  many  centuries  among  savage  and  barbarous  nations.  They 
carry  out  with  them,  too,  the  habit  of  subordination,  some  notion 
of  regular  government  which  takes  place  in  their  own  country,  of 
the  system  of  laws  which  support  it,  and  of  a  regular  administra- 
tion of  justice;  and  they  naturally  establish  something  of  the  same 
kind  in  the  new  settlement.  But  among  savage  and  barbarous 
nations,  the  natural  progress  of  law  and  government  is  still  slower 
than  the  natural  progress  of  arts,  after  law  and  government  have 
been  so  far  established  as  is  necessary  for  their  protection. 

"■  The  progress  of  many  of  the  ancient  Greek  colonies  towards 
refinement,  wealth,  and  greatness,  seems  accordingly  to  have  been 
extremely  rapid.  In  the  course  of  a  century  or  two,  several  of 
tliem  appear  to  have  rivalled,  and  even  to  have  surpassed,  their 
parent  stales.  Thus  Syracuse  and  Agrigentum  in  Sicily,  Tarentum 
and  Locri  in  Italy,  Ephesus  and  Miletus  in  Asia  Minor,  appear  to 
have  been  ai  least  equal  to  any  of  the  cities  of  ancient  Greece. 
Though  posterior  in  their  establishment,  yet  all  the  arts  of  refine- 
ment, philosophy,  poetry,  and  elegance,  seem  to  have  been  culti- 
vated as  early,  and  to  have  been  improved  as  highly,  in  them  as 
in  any  part  of  the  mother  country.  The  schools  of  the  two  oldest 
Greek  philosophers,  those  of  Thales  and  Pythagoras,  were  estab- 
lished, it  is  remarkable,  not  in  ancient  Greece,  but  in  Miletus  and 
Crotoua,  the  former  an  Asiatic,  the  latter  an  Italian  colony.  All 
those  colonies  had  established  themselves  in  countries  inhabited  by 
savage  and  barbarous  nations,  who  easily  gave  place  to  the  new 
settlers      Thus  they  had  as  much  land  as   they  chose,   a  benign 


CH.    VIII.J  GREEK     COLONIES.  83 

climate,  and  a  fertile  soil;  for  these  circumstances  must  have 
dedicated  the  choice  of  tiieir  place  of  establishment.  They  were 
independent  of  their  mother  country,  and  at  liberty  to  conduct 
themselves  in  any  way  they  should  judge  most  suitable  to  their 
interest."  It  was  no  wonder  thcv  should  soon  become  great  and 
powerful  states. 

Meantime,  the  parent  country  owed,  perhaps,  some  of  its  great- 
est political  revolutions  to  its  first  colonies.  The  Greeks  who 
remained  at  home,  naturally  envious  of  the  happiness  and  pros- 
perity which  they  saw  their  countrymen  enjoy  in  their  new  estab- 
lishments, began  to  aspire  at  the  same  freedom  of  constitution. 
An  ardent  passion  for  liberty  soon  became  the  ruling  passion  of 
the  Greeks.  Thebes  and  Athens,  we  have  already  remarked, 
were  the  first  states  which  threw  off  the  regal  government,  and 
substituted  in  its  place  the  republican.  Other  states  soon  followed 
their  example,  and  either  entirely  expelled  their  tyrannical  gov- 
ernors, or  so  circumscribed  their  authority  as  to  reduce  them  to 
the  function  of  the  principal  magistrate  of  a  democracy.* 

A  new  road  was  now  open  to  ambition;  for  it  is  the  quality  of 
the  republican  form  of  government  to  generate  and  keep  alive  that 
passion  in  all  the  members  of  the  state:  and  hence,  of  all  forms  of 
government,  it  is  necessarily  the  most  turbulent.  But  these  repub- 
lics, thus  newly  formed,  could  not  subsist  by  the  ancient  and  very 
imperfect  systems  of  laws  by  which  they  had  been  formerly  gov- 
erned;  for  these  laws,  framed  in  the  spirit  of  despotism,  and  owing 
their  obligation  solely  to  the  strong  hand  which  carried  them  into 
execution,  fell  of  necessity  along  with  the  power  which  fiamed 
and  enforced  them.  The  infant  republics  of  Greece  demanded, 
therefore,  new  laws;  and  it  was  necessary  that  some  enlightened 
citizen  should  arise,  who  had  discernment  to  perceive  what  system 
of  laws  was  best  adapted  to  the  genius  and  character  of  his  native 
state,  who  had  abilii'ies  to  compile  and  digest  such  a  system,  and 
sufficient  weight  and  influence  with  his  countrymen  to  recommend 
and  carry  it  into  execution.  Such  men  were  the  Spartan  Lycur- 
gus  and  the  Athenian  Solon. 


*  The  word  TvQaytoc;,  in  a  strict  sense,  has  no  reference  to  the  abuse  of 
power,  as  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  It  means,  properly,  Uie 
person  invested  with  the  chief  authority  under  any  form  of  government,  and 
was  applied  originally  to  the  best  as  well  as  to  tlie  worst  of  sovereigns. 


04  UNIVERSAL    HIaTORY.  I  COGK.    I 


CHAPTER   IX. 


The  Republic  of  Laced^mo.n  —  Origin  —  Divided  Sovereignty  —  Urovrn  * 
Theory  of  liie  Spartan  Constitution  examined — Reform  of  Lycurj^us — Sonata 
— Limitation  of  tiie  Kinjrly  Power — -Refiulation  of  Manners — Equal  Parlitiun 
of  Ijand  amonir  all  the  Citizens — Iron  Money — Arts  prohibited  and  confined 
to  Slaves — Public  Tables — Education — Defects  of  the  System  of  Lycurguu 
— Its  effects  on  Manners — Thefl  authorized — Cruelty — Idleness — Creation  of 
the  Ephori. 

The  territory  of  Lacedaemon,  or  Laconia,  of  which  Sparta,  situated 
on  the  Eurotas,  was  the  chief  city,  forms  the  south-east  corner  of 
Peloponnesus;  having  Argos  and  Arcadia  on  the  north,  Messene 
on  the  west,  the  JMare  internum^  or  Mediterranean,  on  the  south, 
and  the  bay  of  Argos  on  the  ^gean  Sea  to  the  east.  The  whole 
territory,  bounded  by  a  natural  barrier  of  mountains,  did  not  ex- 
ceed fifty  miles  in  its  largest  diameter,  but  was  extremely  popu- 
lous, containing  many  considerable  towns  and  excellent  sea-ports. 
Sparta  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  a  prince  of  the  name  of  Lace- 
dcemon,  who  reigned  there  in  the  time  of  Crotonus,  king  of  Argos, 
and  Amphitryon  of  Athens,  303  years  before  the  destruction  of 
Troy,  and  711  before  the  first  Olympiad.  At  the  time  of  the 
siege  of  Troy,  Menelaus  was  the  sovereign  of  Lacedaemon,  whose 
wife  Helen,  carried  oil'  by  Paris,  the  son  of  Priam,  was  the  cause 
of  the  war. 

Orestes,  the  son  of  Agamemnon,  and  nephew  of  Menelaus,  suc- 
ceeded to  the  sovereignty  of  Lacedaemon  in  right  of  his  mother 
Clytemnestra,  the  daughter  of  Tyndarus.  The  united  kmgdoms 
of  Argos,  Mycense,  and  Lacedaemon  were  possessed  by  his  son 
Tesamenes,  who,  being  expelled  and  dethroned,  as  we  have  seen, 
oy  the  Hcraclidic,  they  made  a  partition  of  his  states,  assignnig 
Laconia  to  Eurysthenes  and  Procles,  two  sons  of  Aristodemus. 
The  brothers  did  not  divide  the  kingdom,  but  governed  jointly 
with  equal  power,  as  the  Roman  consuls;  and  such  continued  to 
De  the  form  of  the  Spartan  sovereignty  during  a  succession  of 
thirty  princes  of  the  line  of  Eurysthenes,  and  twenty-seven  of  the 
race  of  Procles.  The  celebrated  Lycurgus  was  the  son  of  Poly- 
dectes,  the  sixth  prince  in  a  direct  descent  from  Procles.  Of  the 
great  political  revolution,  operated  by  this  eminent  legislator,  we 
shall  immediately  proceed  to  give  some  account,  after  a  previous 
examination  of  a  new  theory  of  the  Spartan  government,  which, 
thougli  extremely  ingenious,  rests  on  no  basis  of  historical  evidence 


en.     IS.]  LACED.EMON.  S5- 

It  is  in  general  a  very  just  opinion  that  political  establishments 
and  forms  of  government  have  owed  their  origin  not  so  much  to 
the  genius  and  efforts  of  any  individual  lawgiver  or  politician,  as 
to  a  natural  progress  in  the  condition  of  men,  and  the  state  of 
society  in  which  they  arose:  but  this  observation,  in  general  true, 
IS  not  universally  so.  It  is  as  fallacious  a  position  to  assert  that 
no  [)olitical  establishment  has  been  the  result  of  the  genius  of  a 
single  man,  as  to  affirm  that  all  have  had  that  origin.  It  is  too 
much  the  prevailing  passion  with  speculative  politicians  to  reduce 
every  thing  to  general  princii)les.  Man,  say  they,  is  every  where 
the  same  animal;  and  will,  placed  in  similar  situations,  always 
exhibit  a  similar  appearance.  Ilis  manners,  his  habits,  his  im- 
provements, the  government  under  which  he  lives,  the  municipal 
laws  by  which  he  is  regulated,  arise  naturally  froni  that  situation 
in  which  we  find  him,  and  all  is  the  result  of  a  k\v  general  laws 
of  nature  which  operate  equally  upon  the  whole  of  the  human 
kind.  I  very  much  fear  that  this  fondness  for  generalizing  has 
been  prejudicial  both  to  sound  philosophy  and  to  historic  truth,  by 
making  fact  bend  to  system.  I  am  afraid  that  those  who  have 
flattered  themselves  with  possessing  that  penetration  of  intellect 
which  can  develop  the  simple  but  hidden  laws  which  regulate 
human  nature,  have  forgotten  that  it  is  the  knowledge  of  facts 
alone  that  must  lead  to  the  discovery  of  those  laws;  and  that  to 
know  for  certain  whether  we  possess  those  necessary  facts,  we 
must  have  attained  a  perfect  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  the 
whole  species.  The  philosopher,  who  antecedently  to  this  exten- 
sive knowledge  should,  from  a  partial  view  of  a  single  nation  or 
race  of  men,  or  even  from  the  best  details  which  history  can  furnish, 
think  himself  qualified  to  lay  down  the  laws  of  the  species,  may 
have  the  ability  to  make  a  very  beautiful  hypothesis,  which,  after 
all,  may  be  as  distant  from  the  truth  as  an  Utopian  romance. 

These  reflections  have  f)ccurred  on  considering  a  theory  with 
regard  to  the  constitution  of  Sparta,  which  was  first  started  by  an 
ingenious  writer.  Dr.  Brown,  in  his  Essay  on  Civil  Liberty;  and 
as  it  pleases  the  imagination  by  its  ingenuity,  it  has  obtained  of  late 
a  pretty  general  currency.  It  has  been  adopted  by  Mr.  Lcgan 
in  a  small  tract  entitled  "The  Philosophy  of  History,"  and  has 
thent^e  been  ingrafted  into  a  larger  work,  probably  written  by  the 
same  anther,  though  under  a  different  name.* 

TIk!  theory  to  which  I  allude,  proceeding  upon  this  principle, 
that  all  political  establishments  result  naturally  from  the  state  of 
society  in  which  they  arise,  gives  the  following  ingenious  account 
of  the  origin  of  the  Sjtartan  government,  and  solution  of  all  tliose 
singular  phenomena  wiiich  it  exhibited. 

The  army  of  the  Ilcraciida?,  when  tiiey  came  to  recover  the 


Rutlicrford's  View  of  Universal  History. 


86  UVIVERSAI.    HISTORV.  [nOOK    I 

• 

Jomiiiion  oftlicir  ancestors,  was  composed  of  Dorians  from  Tlies* 
saly,  ilie  mosi  harlxirous  of  all  the  Greek  trihes.  The  Aclifcans, 
the  ancient  inhabitants  of  Laconia,  were  compelled  to  seek  new 
habitations,  while  the  barbarians  of  Thessaly  took  possession  of 
their  country.  Of  all  the  nations  wliich  are  the  subject  of  history, 
tiiis  people,  it  is  said,  bore  the  nearest  resemblance  to  the  rude 
Americans.  An  American  tribe,  where  a  chief  presides,  where 
the  council  of  the  aged  deliberate,  and  the  assembly  of  the  [)eople 
c;ive  their  voice,  is  on  the  eve  of  such  a  political  establishment  as 
the  Spartan  constitution.  The  Dorians,  or  Thessalians,  settled  in 
Lacechcmon,  manifested  the  same  manners  with  all  other  nations 
in  a  barbarous  state.  Lycurgus  did  no  more  than  arrest  them  in 
that  state  by  forming  their  usages  into  laws.  He  checked  them 
at  once  in  the  first  stage  of  improvement;  he  put  forth  a  bold 
hand  to  that  spring  which  is  in  society,  and  stopped  its  motion. 

It  remains  now  to  inquire  whether  this  ingenious  theory  is  con- 
sistent with  historic  truth.  It  may  be  remarked,  in  the  first  place, 
that  the  Dorians,  thus  represented  as  one  of  the  most  barbarous 
of  the  Greek  nations,  were  in  no  period  of  history  described  as 
possessing  that  character.  From  the  nature  of  their  countty,  they 
were  in  ancient  times  a  pastoral  people,  whose  chief  occupation 
was  the  care  of  their  flocks  and  herds;  and  hence  the  Doric  char- 
acter in  poetry  and  music  is  synonymous  with  the  pastoral.  But 
the  Dorians  inhabiting  the  centre  of  Greece  adjoining  to  Attica, 
and  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Delphos,  were  probably  among 
the  most  early  refined  of  the  Grecian  tribes.  They  were  among 
the  first  who,  from  an  excessive  population,  sent  forth  distant 
colonics;  and,  if  we  are  to  judge  of  the  mother  state  from  Jier 
children,  we  should  estimate  their  civilization  at  that  period  to  be 
remarkable;  since  their  colonies  Syracuse  and  Agrigentum,  Ta- 
rentum  and  Locri,  were  within  a  short  period  of  their  founda- 
lion  among  tiie  most  polished  and  luxurious  of  the  states  of 
antiquity. 

But  in  reality  we  have  no  sufficient  authority  for  this  alleged 
fact,  that  the  Dorians,  or  any  other  people,  expelled  the  ancient 
uihabitants  of  Laconia,  and  took  possession  of  their  country. 
That  the  Heraclidac,  after  a  tedious  war,  at  length  recovered  the 
dominions  of  their  ancestors,  is  a  fact  upon  which  all  antiquity  is 
agreed;  but  that  they  used  the  absurd  and  unnatural  policy  of 
extirpating  their  own  natural  subjects,  and  planting  a  race  of 
strangers  in  their  stead,  is  an  assertion  which  is  not  easily  to  be 
credited.  A  single  oration  of  Isocrates  is  quoted  as  countenancing 
this  alleged  fact.  Addressing  the  Lacedaemonians,  he  says,  "  Ye 
were  originally  Dorians;"  and  in  another  passage  he  says  that  th'» 
Dorians  agreed  to  follow  the  Heraclida^  on  condition  of  getting  a 
share  of  the  conquered  lands.  On  this  slender  authority  rests  the 
supposed  fact,  that  the  Dorians  got  the  whole  of  this  territory  by 
the  extirpation  oi"  its  former  inhabitants.     An  incidental  passage  io 


CH.   IX,]  I.YCUKGUS.  87 

the  speech  of  a  r.ietorician,  referring  to  an  event  which  must  have 
happened  near  800  years  before  his  lime,  is  thus  the  only  warrant 
for  a  fact  wiiich  in  itself  is  contrary  to  all  probabilit3^ 

And  here  the  question  may  be  put,  whence  has  it  happened 
that  this  idea  of  the  origin  of  the  Sj)artan  constitution  should  have 
escaped  all  the  politicians  of  antiquity — all  those  ingenious  and 
accurate  writers  who  have  been  at  the  utmost  pains  to  delineate 
the  origin  and  nature  of  this  extraordinary  system  of  government— 
that  those  great  geniuses  of  antiquity  who  lived  so  much  nea  er  to 
the  times  of  which  they  treated — who  had  all  the  information  we 
have,  and  unquestionably  a  great  deal  more  that  we  have  lost — 
should  not  have  had  the  sagacity  to  develope  this  very  simple  idea 
of  the  rise  of  this  extraordinary  constitution?  IIow  it  has  hap- 
pened that  Xenophon,  Plutarch,  Aristotle,  Plato,  Polybius,  should, 
after  all  their  researches  on  the  subject,  never  have  once  stumbled 
upon  a  truth  of  such  obvious  discovery; — that  all  those  writers 
should  have  joined  in  the  highest  encomiums  of  the  extraordinary 
political  ability  of  Lycurgus  in' effecting  so  singular  and  so  violent 
a  change  in  the  constitution  of  his  country  and  manners  of  his 
people  ; — and  that  it  should  now  be  discovered,  at  the  distance  of 
above  2600  years,  that  this  legislator,  so  celebrated  in  antiquity, 
made  no  change  whatever,  and  had  no  other  merit  than  that  of 
fixing  by  laws  the  manners  of  his  countrymen  in  the  rude  state  in 
which  he  found  them. 

Xeonphon,  in  his  treatise  on  the  Lacedaemonian  polity,  enlarges 
on  the  most  extraordinary  genius  of  Lycurgus,  who  could  devise 
a  system  so  opposite  to  that  of  all  other  establishments,  and  is 
continually  adverting  to  the  contrariety  between  the  laws  which 
he  established,  and  those  which  prevailed  in  the  neighboring 
states. 

Plutarch  says,  that  Lycurgus,  on  returning  after  an  absence  of 
many  years,  which  Jic  had  spent  in  Crete,  in  Egypt,  in  Africa,  in 
Spain,  and  in  Asia,  in  conference  with  the  learned  men  of  all  those 
countries,  and  in  the  study  of  their  laws  and  governments,  con- 
ceived the  great  design  of  entirely  new  modelling  the  laws  and 
constitution  of  his  country,  then  in  the  utmost  disorder  and  imper- 
fection. He  mentions  particularly  that  the  separation  of  the 
military  profession  from  that  of  the  mechanical  arts  was  what 
Lycurgus  most  admired  in  Egypt,  and  thence  he  introduced  the 
same  regulation  among  his  own  countrymen  at  his  return.  He 
saw,  says  Plutarch,  that  "partial  amendments  would  be  like  a 
mild  and  gentle  medicine  in  a  mortal  disease  ;  diat  the  cure  must 
be  made  by  cutting  off  at  once  every  principle  of  ancient  corrup- 
tion, and  thus  giving  the  body  politic  a  new,  vigorous,  and  healthy 
constitution."  The  same  author  informs  us,  that  the  execution  of 
this  design  was  attended,  as  might  have  been  expected,  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  and  relates  a  particular  circumstance  which 
strongly  proves  it  :  the  regulation  of  the  diet  of  the  citizens  excited 


88  UNIVERSAL    HI.STOIIV.  [noOK    I 

such  eoniruolioii,  ihat  llu;  lawgiver  in  a  jjopiilar  tuiimll  had  one  of 
his  eyes  beaten  out. 

Siirli  are  the  ideas  of  two  of  the  ablest  politicians  of  antiquity, 
who  have  written  j)rofessedly  of  the  Spartan  constitution  and 
government.  We  have  no  hint  from  them  of  this  ingenious 
theory,  of  fixing  the  manners  of  barbarians,  or  stopping  the  spring 
of  society.  Do  we  find  any  thing  of  this  notion  in  Plato.-'  Not 
a  word:  every  thing,  on  the  contrary,  which  marks  an  extraor- 
dinary change  effected  by  Lycurgus  ;  which  intimates  the  diffi- 
culties he  met  with,  and  the  force  of  genius  by  which  he  sur- 
mounted them.  "  He  appeared,"  says  Plato,  "  like  a  god  among 
men."  He  realized  and  actually  executed  what  the  greatc-t  phi- 
losophers have  scarcely  dared  to  imagine  :  to  raise  men  above 
the  passion  of  interest,  above  pain,  above  pleasure  ;  to  extinguish 
in  them  the  strongest  propensities  of  nature,  and  to  fill  their  whole 
souls  with  the  love  of  glory  and  of  their  country. 

Do  we  find  any  trace  of  these  modern  ideas  in  Herodotus,  in 
Aristotle,  in  Polybius.-*  Nothing  that  approaches  to  them.  They 
all  breathe  the  same  sentiments  ;.  they  all  paint  the  wonderful 
change  operated  by  Lycurgus,  the  extraordinary  genius  of  that 
politician  and  lav.-giver.  But  the  modern  theorists  have  discovered 
in  the  ancient  governments  principles  and  political  springs  which 
lay  concealed  from  those  who  framed  and  those  who  lived  under 
them.  They  have  traced  the  principles  of  the  Spartan  constitu- 
tion among  every  barbarous  people  :  their  government  and  laws 
among  the  savages  in  America  ;  and  the  singular  manners  and 
more  singular  institutions  which  distinguished  the  Spartans  from 
<ill  the  rest  of  Greece,  among  the  tribes  of  savages  who  wander  in 
(lie  woods,  and  live  in  a  state  of  nature. 

If  the  laws  of  Sparta  have  this  resemblance  to  the  institutions 
-if  all  barbarous  nations,  I  would  ask  among  what  bai-barous  people 
do  we  find  such  institutions  as  the  following,  or  any  thing  in  their 
manners  analogous  to  them?  Children  at  Sparta  were  not  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  individual  parents,  but  to  the  state. 
After  the  performance  of  the  first  maternal  duties,  the  youth  were 
educated  at  the  charge  of  the  public  ;  and  every  citizen  had  as 
much  authority  over  his  neighbor's  children  as  over  his  own. 
Slaves,  in  the  same  manner,  were,  at  Sparta,  a  species  of  common 
property  ;  every  man  might  make  use  of  his  neighbor's  slaves  ; 
and  hunt,  as  Xenophon  informs  us,  not  only  with  his  neighbor's 
servants,  but  with  his  dogs  and  horses.  Among  nations  in  their 
rudest  state,  as  the  wild  Americans,  we  know  that  the  condition  of 
children  is,  that  they  arc  subjected  to  the  absolute  will  and  disposal 
of  the  father  :  the  communitv  or  tribe  has  no  more  concern  with 
the  children  of  the  individual,  than  they  have  with  liis  bow  or  his 
hatchet,  or  the  prey  that  he  has  taken,  or  slain  with  his  arrows. 

A  communion  of  property,  such  as  that  we  have  mentioned,  is 
totally  adverse  to  the  manners  of  a  savage  peoj)le,  whose  chaiac- 


CU.  IX.]  LYCt'RGUS  o9 

teristic  fcicure  is  predominant  selfishness,  and  where  the  notions  of 
ihe  individual  witli  respect  to  the  property  he  possesses  are  obsti- 
nately repugnant  to  all  communication. 

The  strong  inducement  to  marriage  held  forth  by  the  laws  of 
Lycurgus,  by  punishing  those  with  infamy  who  refused  to  marry, 
has  no  foundation  in  the  manners  of  a:iy  of  those  barbarous  nations 
witii  which  we  are  acquainted. 

We  discover  not  in  barbarous  tribes  any  thing  analogous  to  the 
oath  of  government,  which,  at  Sparta,  was  annually  renewed 
between  the  kings  and  people.  The  kings  swore  to  rule  accord- 
ing to  the  laws,  and  the  people  took  a  solemn  oath,  by  the  moi  th 
of  their  magistrates,  to  be  faithful  and  obedient,  oa  that  conditiony 
to  their  government. 

The  confinement  of  the  citizens  of  Sparta  to  the  same  simple 
diet,  and  the  public  tables,  where  all  fed  in  common,  have  no 
parallel  among  any  barbarous  peoj)le  that  has  ever  yet  been  dis- 
covered. Intemperance  in  food,  and  drunkenness,  are  among  the 
predominant  vices  of  all  rude  nations. 

No  pliilosophic  traveller  has  yet  discovered  among  any  barbarous 
nations  in  that  period  when  they  have  become  stationary,  and  have 
a  fixed  territorial  residence,  any  traces  of  any  agrarian  law.  If 
this  could  be  found  in  any  savage  state,  we  might  then  suppose 
that  Lycurgus  made  no  extraordinary  innovation  when  he  divided 
Laconia  into  39,000  equal  portions  among  its  whole  inhabitants. 

Similar  illustrations  might  be  added  without  number.  It  cannot 
be  alleged,  in  opposition  to  those  instances  I  have  mentioned,  that 
they  are  minute  or  unessential  circumstances  of  dissimilarity,  wliici' 
would  not  counterbalance  the  great  and  material  points  of  coinci 
dence;  they  are,  on  the  contrary,  great  and  capital  features  of  the 
Spartan  constitution,  to  which  we  shall  not  find  the  sniallest  resem- 
blance in  the  institutions  or  manners  of  any  barbarous  people. 
Instances  of  this  kind,  where  they  consist  of  important  and  specific 
facts,  have  much  more  influence  than  general  characters  either  of 
weight  or  dissimilarity.  It  is  jusi  as  absurd  to  say,  that  a  barbarous 
American  tribe,  where  a  chief  presides,  where  the  council  of  the 
aged  deliberate,  and  the  assembly  of  the  people  gives  its  voice,  is 
on  the  eve  of  such  a  constitution  as  that  of  Sparta,  as  it  were  to 
say  that  they  are  on  the  eve  of  such  a  constitution  as  that  :( 
Britain; — because  there  is  a  coincidence  of  the  same  general 
characters,  a  kins  presiding,  a  privy-council  deliberaiinc,  and  tho 
people  giving  their  voice  by  their  representatives  in  parliament. 

I  forbear  to  p  irsue  this  subject  to  a  greater  length.  Too  much, 
it  may  be  thought,  has  been  said  on  this  modern  theory  of  the 
Spartan  government  :  but  the  currency  it  has  obtained,  and  the 
general  prevalence  of  the  spirit  of  systematizing,  which  is  hurtfiil 
to  iniprovement  in  most  sciences,  and  is  particulaily  dangerous  in 
matters  of  history,  seemed  to  make  it  necessary  that  this  remark- 
able example  should   meet  with    particular    examination.     I   pro- 

VOL.    I.  12 


90  u.Mvr.usAU  iiisToiiv.  [book  I 

ceed  now  to  a  short  delineation  of  the  constitution  of  Sparta,  ano 
shall  consider  its  great  legislator  in  that  point  of  view  in  which  his 
characler  has  been  regarded  by  all  antiquity. 

The  return  of  the  Ilcraclida;,  as  wc  have  seen,  gave  two  kings 
to  Lacechcrnon.  In  the  j)artition  of  their  conquests,  Sjjarla  fell  to 
the  share  of  Eurysihenes  and  Proclcs,  the  sons  of  Arislodemus, 
who  agreed  to  a  joint  dominion,  which  should  descend  in  the 
same  manner  to  dieir  posterity.  The  sovereignty,  split  into  two 
branches,  remained  thus  divided  for  about  900  years.  The  carlici 
periods  of  this  government  were,  from  that  cause,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  most  disorderly  and  tumultuous.  While  each  ruler 
acknowledged  no  other  law  than  his  own  will,  to  which  he  found 
a  frequent  opposition  from  the  eqlially  arbitrary  will  of  another,  it 
is  easy  to  imagine  what  must  have  been  the  condition  of  the 
subject,  and  what  the  weakness  and  disorder  of  the  kingdom. 

In  this  miserable  state  of  anarchy,  Lycurgus  succeeded  to  one 
branch  of  the  throne,  by  the  death  of  his  brother  Polydectes;  but 
the  widow  of  the  last  prince  being  after  a  few  months  delivered  of 
a  son,  he  yielded  the  crown  to  his  infant  nephew.  Thus  at  liberty, 
and  meditating  more  effectually  to  serve  his  country  at  a  future 
period,  he  travelled  into  Crete,  Asia,  and  Egypt,  in  the  view  of 
studying  the  laws  of  foreign  nations  and  the  spirit  of  their  govern- 
ments. The  singular  example  he  had  shown  of  moderation  in 
resigning  the  throne,  his  known  abilities,  and  the  fruits  expected 
from  those  treasures  of  acquired  knowledge  he  was  now  supposed 
to  possess,  made  his  countryn)en  pray  his  return  with  eager  impa- 
tience. He  returned  to  Sparta;  and  even  the  kings  themselves 
are  said  to  have  joined  the  voice  of  the  people  in  soliciting  his  aid 
to  reform  and  save  his  country. 

Lycurgus  undertook  the  arduous  office  in  the  true  spirit  of  dis- 
interested patriotism.  He  perceived  immediately  that  he  must 
encounter  the  most  formidable  difficulties  in  effecting  what  he 
proposed, — a  total  change,  not  only  in  the  government  but  in  the 
manners  of  his  people.  For  this  great  purpose,  he  had  learned 
from  the  example  of  the  Cretan  Minos,  that  no  engine  was  so 
powerful  over  the  minds  of  a  rude  and  ignorant  people,  as  the 
belief  of  acting  by  supernatural  aid.  The  Delphian  oracle,  tutored, 
it  may  be  supposed,  to  the  purpose,  declared  Lycurgus  the  friend 
and  favorite  of  the  gods;  and  proclaimed  to  Sparta,  that  from  him 
she  should  derive  the  most  perfect  government  on  earth. 

Armed  with  this  heavenly  sanction,  Lycurgus  boldly  proposed 
bis  system.  The  former  constitution,  if  it  deserved  that  name, 
was  an  unnatural  mixture  of  an  hereditaiy  divided  monarchy,  and 
a  disorderly  democracy.  Between  these  contending  powers,  there 
was  no  clearly  defined  partition  of  authority,  nor  any  intermediate 
power  to  preserve  the  balance.  To  supply  this  want  was  the 
first  aim  of  Lycurgus.  He  created  a  senate,  elective,  of  twenty- 
eight    members,    whose   function    was,  as    a   national   council,    to 


CH.    IX. J  LYCURGUS.  iJl 

prepare  and  digest  laws  and  ordinances,  which  the  people  had  a 
power  to  approve  or  reject.  Nothing  could  come  before  the 
assembly  of  the  people  that  had  not  either  originated  in  the  senate, 
or  previously  received  its  sanction.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
approbation  of  the  people  was  necessary  to  validate  the  deter- 
minations of  the  senate.  Thus,  in  fact,  the  sovereignty  resided 
pr()i)erly  in  the  people;  to  whom  the  senate  was  a  council,  for- 
nished  with  sufficient  power  to  regulate  without  dictating  their 
determinations. 

The  kings  presided  in  the  senate,  and  had  a  double  suffrage. 
They  were  likewise  the  generals  of  the  republic;  but  in  other 
respects,  their  power  was  extremely  limited.  They  could  form 
no  enterprise  without  the  sanction  of  a  council  of  the  citizensj 
whose  duty  was  to  watch  over  their  measures.  On  considering 
this  circumscribed  authority  of  the  kings,  Condillac  has  well 
remarked,  that  the  throne  seemed  preserved  in  the  line  of  the 
HeraclidiB,  only  with  the  view  of  preventing  any  citizen  aspiring 
to  it;  and  two  kings  were  in  reality  less  dangerous  to  liberty  than 
one;  since  they  constantly  kept  alive  two  opposite  parties,  each 
restraining  the  other's  ambition,  and  thus  preventing  all  approach 
to  tyranny. 

A  system  tiius  simple,  and  dnis  beautifully  balanced,  seemed 
in  some  measure  to  ensure  its  own  duration.  But  Lycurgus  well 
knew,  that  permanence  was  not  to  be  looked  for  fiom  the  best 
concerted  system,  if  attention  were  not  given  at  the  same  time 
to  the  regulation  of  that  great  spring  on  which  all  governments 
depend,  the  manners  of  the  people.  Quid  leges  sine  moribus 
vanoe  projiciunt  ? 

In  this  important  article,  the  regulation  of  manners,  one  single 
principle  influenced  the  whole  plan  of  Lycurgus.  Luxury  is  the 
bane  of  society.  Let  us  see  in  what  manner  tlie  particular  insti- 
tutions of  the  Spartan  legislator  were  calculated  to  guard  against 
that  powerful  source  of  corruption. 

Tlie  inequality  of  possessions  was  in  the  first  place  to  be  cor- 
rected, which  could  not  be  done  without  a  new  partition  of  terri- 
torial ])roperty.  This  was  in  all  probability  the  greatest  of  those 
difiicultics  which  Lycurgus  had  to  encounter.  An  agrarian  law, 
as  striking  at  the  root  of  wealth,  pre-eminence  and  luxury,  is 
of  all  political  regulations  that  which  has  ever  been  found  of  the 
most  difficuli  accomplishment.  We  shall  see  the  eflccts  of  such 
attempts  in  the  Roman  commonwealth.  The  Greek  historians 
have  left  us  much  in  the  dark  as  to  the  means  which  Lycurgus 
employed  to  enforce  this  necessary,  but  harsh  and  violent  change. 
It  seems  most  probable  that  he  gained  the  wealthiest  of  the  citi- 
zens to  an  acquiescence  in  this  measure,  by  artfully  employing  the 
passion  of  honor  to  combat  that  of  interest  ;  for  exaiu))le,  by 
admitting  this  class  of  men  chiefly  to  a  share  in  the  government 
of  the  a.ute,  when  the  senate  was  first  formed,  and  the  chief  office? 


92  UNIVKRSAI.    IIISTOKV.  [  liOOK   I 

()(  the  coininoiuvcalili  supplied.     As  for  llic  gical  body  of  the  peo 
j)le,  they  would  |)roljably  be  gainers  by  llie  distribution. 

The  more  cnectually  lo  annihilate  the  distinction  of  wealth,  ihp 
S|)arlan  legislator,  instead  of  gold  and  silver,  substituted  iron 
moneij;  the  small  value  of  which  rendered  the  current  specie  of 
such  unwieldy  bulk,  that  no  individual  could  easily  accumulate  a 
large  quantity  without  the  discovery  of  his  avarice.  The  sum  of 
ten  minfc,  equal  to  about  thirty  pounds  sterling,  would,  in  the 
Spartan  money,  as  Plutarch  tells  us,  fill  a  large  apartment,  and 
could  not  be  transported  without  a  yoke  of  oxen.  This  iron 
money,  moreover,  being  probably  estimated  at  a  higher  value 
than  its  intrinsic  worth,  prevented  its  currency  beyond  the  Lace- 
demonian territory;  and  thus  contributed  to  another  view  of  the 
legislator,  in  checking  all  commercial  intercourse  widi  foreign 
states. 

In  a  government  formed  upon  the  principle  of  exterminating 
uxury,  and  abolishing  all  inequality  of  property,  the  exercise  of 
no  arts  could  be  tolerated  unless  such  as  were  merely  necessary. 
The  practice  even  of  these,  which  might  have  occasioned  some 
inequality  of  wealth,  was  forbidden  to  all  the  free  subjects  of  the 
state,  and  ])crmittcd  only  to  the  slaves.  Commerce  was  strictly 
prohibited;  and  ahhough  the  tcr.itory  of  Lacedtemon  contained  a 
considerable  extent  of  sea-coast,  and  afforded  many  excellent  har- 
bors, the  Spartans  allowed  no  foreigners  to  approach  their  shores, 
and  had  not  d  single  trading  vessel  of  their  own. 

Amidst  these  regulations  repressive  of  every  species  of  luxury, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  was  the  institution  of  the  Public 
Tables.  The  whole  citizens  of  the  republic  were  divided  into 
vicinages  of  fifteen  families,  and  each  vicinage  had  a  common 
table,  where  all  were  obliged  to  dine  or  make  their  principal 
repast,  each  taking  his  place  in  the  public  hall  without  distinction 
of  ranks;  the  kings,  senators,  and  magistrates,  indiscriminately 
with  the  people.  Here  all  partook  of  the  same  homely  fare 
dressed  in  the  simplest  and  most  frugal  manner.  At  those  public 
tables  the  youth  not  only  learned  moderation  and  temperance,  but 
wisdom  and  good  morals.  The  conversation  was  regulated  and 
prescribed.  It  turned  solely  on  such  subjects  as  tended  to  instil 
into  the  minds  of  the  rising  generation  the  principles  of  virtue,  and 
that  affection  for  their  country  which  characterizes  the  worthy  citi- 
zens of  every  government,  but  was  peculiarly  eminent  under  the 
Spartan  constitution.  ' 

Among  the  principal  objects  of  the  institutions  of  Lycurgus,  the 
education  of  the  youth  of  the  republic  was  that  on  which  the 
legislator  had  bestowed  the  most  particular  attention.  Children, 
after  they  had  attained  the  age  of  seven,  were  no  longer  the  charge 
of  their  jiarenis,  but  of  the  state.  Before  that  period,  they  were 
taught  at  home  the  great  lessons  of  obedience  and  fitigality. 
Afterwards,  under  public  masters,  their  education  was  such  as  to 


CH.   IX. J  LYCURGDS.  93 

train  them  up  to  that  species  of  heroisiT.,  and  llie  practice  of  the 
severer  virtues,  wliich  so  strongly  marked  the  Spartan  character. 
They  were  tauglit  to  despise  equally  danger  and  pain.  To  shrink 
under  the  stroke  of  punishment  was  a  sufficient  reason  for  having 
that  punishment  redoubled.  Their  very  sports  and  amusements 
were  such  as  are  fitted  to  promote  a  strength  of  constitution,  and 
vigor  and  agility  of  body.  The  athletic  exercises  were  prescribed 
alike  for  both  sexes;  as  the  bodily  vigor  of  the  mother  is  essential 
to  that  of  her  offspring.  To  run,  to  swim,  to  wrestle,  to  hunt, 
were  the  constant  exercise  of  the  youth.  With  regard  to  the 
culture  of  the  mind,  the  Spartan  discipline  admitted  none  of  those 
studies  which  tend  to  refine  or  embellish  the  understanding.  But 
the  duties  of  religion,  tho  tiiviolable  bond  of  a  promise,  the  sacred 
obligation  of  an  oath,  the  respect  due  to  parents,  the  reverence  for 
old  age,  the  strictest  obedience  to  the  laws;  and  above  all,  the 
love  of  their  country,  the  n(jble  flame  of  patriotism,  were  early  and 
assiduously  inculcated.  In  impressing  on  the  mind  these  most 
important  lessons,  the  great  duties  of  morality,  and  instructing  the 
youth  in  the  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  their  country,  the  utmost 
attention  was  deservedly  bestowed. 

An  acquaintance  with  the  laws  was  a  most  material  object  in 
the  education  of  all  the  citizens.  Lycurgus  did  not  permit  his 
laws  to  be  written.  They  were  few  and  simple;  and  were 
impressed  on  the  memory  of  the  youth  by  their  parents  and 
masters,  continually  renewed  in  their  minds  by  the  conversation 
of  their  elders,  and  most  effectually  enforced  by  the  daily  practice 
of  their  lives. 

Thus  the  reproacli  which  some  authors  have  thrown  on  the 
Spartan  education,  that  it  was  fitted  only  to  make  a  nation  of  sol- 
diers— and  that  the  mind  as  to  every  useful  science,  was  left  in 
absolute  ignorance — is  a  rash  and  ill-founded  accusation.  The 
utmost  attention  was,  on  the  contrary,  bestowed  on  those  which 
are  the  most  important  of  all  mental  occupations,  the  duties  of 
morality,  and  that  true  philosophy  which  teaches  both  the  practice 
of  the  domestic  virtues,  and  the  great  and  important  obligations  of 
a  citizen.  The  youth  of  Sparta,  from  their  attendance  at  the 
))ublic  tables,  were  from  their  infancy  familiarly  acquainted  with 
all  the  important  business  of  the  commonwealth.  They  knew 
thoroughly  its  constitution,  the  powers  of  the  several  functionaries 
of  the  state,  and  the  defined  duties  and  rights  which  belonged  to 
the  kings,  the  magistrates,  and  the  citizens.  Hence  arose  (more 
than  perhaps  from  any  other  cause)  that  permanence  of  constitu- 
tion which  has  been  so  justly  the  admiration  both  of  ancient  and 
of  modern  politicians:  for  where  all  orders  of  men  know  their 
orecise  rights  and  duties,  and  there  are  laws  suflicient  to  secure  to 
them  the  one,  and  protect  them  in  the  exercise  of  the  other,  there 
will  rarely  be  a  factious  strug2;le  for  power  or  preeminence;  as  all 
inordinate  ambition  will  be  most  effectually  repressed  by  a  general 


M  rXIVCKSAL    HISTOKT.  £S0«K    I 

spmi  of  vi^ilar;  Jtion,  as  weD  as  ibe  di£cuhj  and  <ian^ 

attendant  on  iar. 

B'jt  wrilie  vve  v.ius  jive  to  the  general  outlines  of  the  plan  of 
Lyr     r      •     •  '  ;;um  which  it  justly  merits,  let  us  not  become 

t:-  of  a  5)-5ieni  which,  in  many  particulars,  con- 

siaerea    ;..  as  much  more  deser^ii^  of  biame    than   of 

admiration. 

~        '  ?rs,  to  the   repilation    of  which   so 

lij  ujc  laws  of  Lycurgus,  have  aiTorded 

very  a  er  oi  censure.     The  regulations  especially  regard- 

b?  •■  -—  :  drawn  on  the  Spartan  legislator  much  de5er\-ed 

c  jn,  both  from   moralists   and    politicians.     Amidst   aH 

thai  i.^.^  ajsterity  of  manners  which  the  laws  of  Lycurgiis  seem 
calculated  to  enforce,  how  astonishing  is  it  that  public  decency 
and  decorum  s:  '  :dl     The  Spartan 

women  were  tl  r  immodesty;  and 

A:  jcss  and  intemperance 

t-  .  .in  of  the  state.     The 

men  and  women  frequented  promiscuously  the  public  baths:  the 
youth  of  both  sexes  ran,  wrestled,  and  fought  naked  in  the  palsstra. 
Plutarch  tells  us,  in  one  passage  of  the  Life  of  Lycui^us,  that 
there  was  do  such  thing  as  adultery  known  in  Sparta  in  ancient 
times.  But  it  is  diincult  to  reconcile  this  assertion  of  Plutarch 
with  what  he  himself  records  of  that  extraordinarj'  peculiarity  of 
the  laws  of  Lycurgus  which  permitted  one  citizen  to  borrow 
another's  wife,  for  the  purpose  of  a  good  breed;  and  held  it  no 
dishonor  for  an  aged  man  who  had  a  handsome  wife,  to  offer  lier 
to  a  young  man,  and  to  edjcate  as  his  own  the  issue  of  that  con- 
nection. The  ciiief  end  of  marriage,  according  to  the  lawgiver's 
liotions,  was  to  furnish  the  stale  with  a  vigorous  and  healthy  race 
of  citizens.  It  were  therefore  more  just  to  have  said,  not  that 
aduUery  was  unknown  at  Sparta,  but  that  tliere  was  no  such  crime 
recognised  by  its  laws. 

Yet  Lycurgus,  with  an  apparent  inconsistency,  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  reconcile,  had  laid  down  the  strictest  regulations  regarding 
the  commerce  between  the  sexes  after  marriage.  The  Spartan 
marriages  were  performed  in  secret:  the  husband  stole  a«ay,  or 
fo:  Tied  away,  his  wife:  she  was  dressed  for  some  time  io 

n-:_  „>■').  to  conceal  her  :   while  the  husband  continued  to 

sleep  as  L-  •ories  with  his  companion?,  and 

to  see  his  .  tlie  birth  of  a  cliild  made  him 

known  at  once  as  a  iiusband  and  a  father.* 


1^7  ^g    ''Id    b3c!ie'.-''¥      THfv  viin 

V  comoiel'.ed  'o  waik   nake<f  I   :      ..    _  ■■\et 

mnginr  a   iucicroa*  long  which  coniieaKil  the  jnsuiee  of  liueiz  pamsiuneii* 
GiMit '»  Hiftt/ry  of  Greece,  c  ilL 


iH.    IX.]  LACBD£.MON.  96 

It  is  noi  only  in  the  article  of  cliastiiy  that  the  Spartan  laws 
have  been  justly  blamed.  Theft  was  a  part  of  die  system  of 
education  at  Lacedaemon.  CliiJdren  were  sent  out  to  steal  from 
the  public  markets  and  gardens,  from  ilie  butchers'  stalls,  and 
even  from  private  houses.  If  unsuccessful,  they  were  punished 
with  the  loss  of  a  meal ;  if  detected  in  tlie  theft,  they  were 
scourged  with  severity.  It  is  a  lame  apology  for  an  institution  of 
tiiis  kind  to  say  that  it  habituated  them  early  to  stratagems  of  war, 
to  dangp?.  and  to  vigilance.  The  talents  of  a  thief  are  •ery 
dilTerent  from  the  virtues  of  a  warrior. 

Cruelt}',  too,  a  quality  extremely  opposite  to  heroic  virtue,  was 
a  strong  ingredient  in  the  Spartan  system  of  m.-nners.  Paternal 
or  maternal  tenderness  seemed  perfectly  unknown  among  this 
ferocious  people.  Xew-bom  children  were  publicly  inspected  by 
the  elders  of  each  tribe;  and  such  as  promised  to  be  of  a  weak 
and  delicate  constitution  were  immediately  put  to  death  by  drown- 
ing. At  the  festival  of  Diana,  children  were  scourged,  sometimes 
even  to  death,  in  the  presence  of  their  mothers,  who  exhorted 
them,  meantime,  to  suffer  every  extremity  of  pain  without  com- 
plaint or  murmur.  It  is  no  wonder  that  such  mothers  should 
receive,  without  emotion,  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of  a  son  in 
the  field  of  battle;  but  is  it  possible  to  believe  that  on  such  occa- 
sions they  should  so  far  conquer  nature  as  to  express  a  transport 
of  joy.'  What  judgment  must  we  form  of  the  Spartan  notions  of 
patriotic  virtue,  when,  to  love  their  country,  it  was  tliought  neces- 
sary to  subdue  and  extinguish  the  strongest  feehngs  of  humanity, 
the  first  instinct  of  nature. 

The  barbarous  treatment  which  the  Lacedaemonians  bestowed 
on  their  slaves,  or  Helots,  is  mentioned  by  all  ancient  writers  with 
extreme  censure  and  just  indignation.  The  Helots  were  a  neigh- 
boring people  of  Peloponnesus,  whom  they  had  subdued  in  war, 
and  reduced  to  servitude.  They  were  numerous,  and  bad  at 
times  attempted  to  shake  off  their  yoke;  whence  it  was  judged  a 
necessary  policy  to  curb,  to  intimidate,  and  to  weaken  them  by 
the  most  shocking  inhumanity  It  was  not  allowable  to  sell  or  to 
exjtort  them;  but  the  youth  were  encouraged  to  put  them  to 
death  for  pastime.  They  went  forth  to  the  field  to  hunt  them 
like  wild  beasts;  and  when  at  any  time  it  was  apprehended  tiiai 
those  unhappy  wretches  had  become  so  numerous  as  to  endanger 
the  state,  the  cryptia^  or  secret  act^  viz:  a  general  massacre  in  the 
night,  was  ordained  by  law.  The  apologists  of  ilie  Spartan  legis- 
lator tell  us,  that  these  enormities  cannot  be  imputed  to  Lycurgus; 
that  they  sprang  from  the  perversion  of  his  institutions,  and  were 
unknown  in  the  early  and  more  virtuous  periods  of  the  Lacedcemo- 
nian  state;  but  a  very  little  reflection  must  convince  us,  that  they 
arose  necessarily  from  that  system  of  manners  which  his  institu- 
»ions  were  calculated  to  form. 

It  were  easy  to  show  that  the  Spartan  institutions,  however  ex- 


9b  UMVEUSAI.    HISTORY.  [nOOK  I 

rcllciil  ill  many  respects,  cairicil  in  llicmselvcs  tlic  seeds  of  n\  ich 
•iisorder. 

To  virtue  there  is  no  such  enemy  as  idleness;  hut  the  Lacede- 
monians, unless  when  engaged  in  war,  were  totally  unoccupied. 
Lycurgus,  it  is  said,  wanted  to  make  a  nation  of  soldiers.*  So  his 
apologists  conclude,  because  they  find  that  his  constitution  was 
more  proper  for  producing  that  effect  than  any  other.  But  the 
ultimate  object  of  all  legislation  is  not  to  give  a  people  anv  par- 
ticular character,  but  to  furnish  them  with  such  laws  as  are  suited 
to  j)roduce,  in  their  situation,  the  greatest  political  happiness. 
Lycurgus  may  have  judged  that  the  military  character  was  most 
j)rf)por  for  producing  that  effect.  In  a  small  territory  like  that  of 
Lacedacmon,  security  was  evidently  the  first  and  principal  object; 
and  therefore  to  cherish  the  military  spirit  as  essential  to  that  end 
was  deservedly  a  primary  view  of  the  legislator;  but  it  ouglit  not 
to  have  been  his  only  view.  It  is  in  peace  that  a  nation  enjo\  s 
its  truest  happiness;  and  to  qualify  the  citizens  of  every  govei'ii- 
mcnt  for  that  which  is  their  natural  state,  the  sound  heahh  of  the 
body  politic,  is  certainly  the  chief  end  of  legislation.  Much  there- 
fore as  we  may  admire  the  genius  and  talents  of  Lycurgus,  we 
cannot  say  that  he  had  extensive  or  even  just  views  as  a  politician, 
since  he  seems  to  have  concluded  that  while  his  law's  cherished 
the  military  spirit,  every  other  virtue  or  quality  of  a  citizen  would 
follow  of  course.  The  Lacedaemonians  therefore  exhibited  in  their 
general  character  exactly  what  might  have  been  expected  from 
the  discipline  that  trained  them.  Unless  when  engaged  in  war, 
they  were  absolutely  idle  and  listless.  They  had  no  occupations 
for  a  season  of  peace.  The  distinction  of  professions,  which  in 
other  states  gives  rise  to  that  separation  of  interests  which,  animat- 
ing each  individual,  inspires  life  and  vigor  into  the  whole  com- 
munity, was  there  totally  unknown.  The  common  good,  oi 
rather  the  glory,  of  the  state,  came  in  place  of  every  private  inter 


*  Xonophon.  who  had  fought   for  and  against   the   Laccdtpnionians,   remarki 
tliat  in   the  knowledge  and  practice  of  war,  they  far  excelled  all  ottier  nationi 
both  (jreeks  and  barbarians.     Their  troops  were  divided  into  reirinicnls  consist 
ing  of  51'.2  men,  subdivided  into  T'lur  companies,  and  each  of  these  into  smalU 
divisions,  commanded  by  their  respective  officers.     The  soldiers  were  attende 
by  a  multitude  of  artisans  and  slaves,  who   furnished  tiiem  with  all   necossar  • 
supplies,  and    accompanied   by  a  'ong  train  of  priests   and  poets,  who  flattereii 
their    hopes  and   animated    their  .fiilor.       A  body    of  cavalry    always  preceded 
their  march.     They  encamped   in  a  circular  form  ;  they  employed    fur  their  se- 
curity  out-sentrics  and    videttes ;    and    regularly    ever^    morning   and  evening 
performed    their    customary   exercises.      lu    the    day    ot    \ia1t!e,    the    Spartans 
assumed  an    unusual  gaiety  of  aspect ;    and  displiyed  in  their  dress  and  orna- 
ments more  than  their  wonted    splendor.     Their  long  hair   was   arranged    with 
.simple    elegance  ;    their    scarlet  uniforms    and    brazen    armor    diffused    a   lustre 
around    them.     As  they  approached  the   enemy,    the   king  performed  sacrifice, 
the   music  struck   up,    and    they  advanced  x\"th    firmness  and    alacrity    to   the 
charge.     Xenophon   has  declared,  thax    whv'n    he   considered  the    discipline   of 
the  Spartans,  all  other  nations  appeared  out  children  in  the    art  of  war. — Xnt 
oph.  dc  Rrp.  Imc;  Gillies' s  Hist,  of  Greece,  c.'i 


CM.   IX.]  LACED.E.MOX.  91 

est — a  noble  objecl  !  but,  unliappily,  from  the  weakness  of  our 
nature,  utterly  inadequate  to  the  desires  and  passions  of  the  great 
mass  of  a  people.  The  insipid  and  inactive  life  of  the  Sjjartans 
was  accordingly  a  perpetual  subject  of  raillery  to  the  rest  of  the 
Greeks,  and  to  none  more  than  to  the  busy,  restless,  and  volatile 
Athenians.  To  this  purpose  -Elian  riientions  a  witticism  of  Alci- 
biades,  when  some  one  was  vaunting  to  him  the  contempt  which 
the  Lacedaemonians  had  for  death:  "It  is  no  wonder,"  said  he, 
'  since  it  relieves  them  from  the  heavy  burden  of  an  idle  and 
stupid  life." 

From  the  military  character,  however,  of  this  people,  the  small 
extent  of  their  territory,  and  the  wise  precautions  of  their  lawgiver 
for  preventing  all  extension  of  its  limits,  the  constitution  of  thi:> 
republic  possessed  a  very  strong  principle  of  duration.  We  shall 
see  that  in  reality  it  subsisted  much  longer  without  any  important 
revolution  than  any  other  of  the  states  of  Greece. 

The  first  material  change,  however,  upon  the  system  of  Lycurgiis 
was  made  within  130  years  of  his  own  time,  by  the  introduction 
of  a  new  magistracy,  under  the  name  of  the  Ephori.  Theopom- 
pus,  'one  of  the  kings,  jealous  of  the  power  of  the  senate,  which 
was  generally  supported  by  the  concurring  judgment  of  the  people, 
devised  a  plan  for  influencing  their  resolutions,  by  giving  them  a 
set  of  officers  of  their  own  body.  These  officers,  termed  Ephori. 
were  five  in  number;  they  were  elected  by  the  people,  and 
enjoyed  a  similar  but  a  higher  power  than  that  of  the  tribunes  of 
Jie  people  at  Rome.  Instituted  at  fiist  to  form  an  equipoise 
between  the  senate  and  people,  they  gradually  usurj)ed  a  paramount 
power  in  the  state.  They  could,  by  their  own  ainhority,  expel  or 
degrade  the  senators,  and  even  punish  them  capitally  for  any 
ollence  which  they  might  interpret  into  a  state  crime.  The  kings 
themselves  wijre  under  their  control,  and  the  Ephori  had  a  right  to 
fine  them  and  put  them  in  arrest;  a  dangerous  prerogative,  which 
it  was  easy  to  see  would  never  stop  short  of  absolute  power;  and 
accordingly  they  assumed  at  length  the  function  of  deposing  and 
putting  the  kings  to  death.  These,  on  the  other  hand,  still  nomi 
nally  the  chief  magistrates,  plotted  against  the  power  and  persot.a 
oftlie  Ephori;  they  bribed,  deposed,  and  murdered  them.  Thus 
in  the  latter  periods  of  the  Spartan  commonwealth,  nistead  of  that 
equal  balance  established  by  the  original  plan  of  Lycurgus,  there  wa? 
between  the  dilTcrent  branches  of  this  constitution  a  perpetual 
contention  for  superiority,  the  continual  source  of  faction  and  dis- 
order. Most  of  the  internal  causes  which  in  time  operated  to  the 
decline  and  fall  of  the  Spartan  government,  particularly  to  be  found 
'n  those  institutions  which  led  to  the  corruption  of  manners,  have 
been  already  noticed.  These  silently  undermined  this  |)i)iiticai 
fabric;  while  other  causes  external  of  its  constitution  were  the 
more  direct  and  innnediate  causes  of  its  destruction.      These  shall 

VOL.     I.  13 


d8  UNIVERSAL  jiisTonr.  [dook  1 

be  opened  in  ilieir  order,  while  we  jjiirsue  the  general  oiiilincs 
of  tlie  naiional  history  ;  after  a  brief  dehnealionof  the  rival  repub- 
lic of  Athens,  to  which  we  proceed  in  iho  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  X. 


TriK  Rktubi-ic  of  Athens  —  Revolution  in  the  Slates  of  Attica — Regal 
Government  abolished  —  perpetual  Arcbons — Draco  —  Solon — His  Institu- 
tions—  Senate  —  Areopagus  re-estaldisiied —  Power  of  tlie  Popular  Assemblies 
— Laws —  Ostracism — Appeal  from  all  Couits  to  the  People — Alanners — Reve- 
nue—  Grecian  History  continued,  Pisistratus,  Hippias,  and  Hipparchus  — 
Alcmffionidce. 

I  HAVE,  in  a  former  chapter,  observed  that  Greece,  in  the  early- 
part  of  her  history,  probably  owed  some  of  her  greatest  political 
revolutions  to  her  first  colonies.  The  prosperity  which  the  mother 
country  saw  her  children  enjoy  in  their  new  settlements,  while 
she  herself  was  yet  groaning  under  the  worst  of  all  servitude,  that 
of  a  bad  government,  naturally  inspired  an  eager  wish  to  attain  if 
possible  a  similar  freedom  of  constitution.  The  domestic  disorders 
of  Attica,  in  particular,  had  grown  to  a  great  height.  The  union 
of  its  states  by  Theseus  was  but  a  forced  league  of  association  : 
it  was  the  consequence  of  the  subordinate  cities  being  involved  in 
frequent  quarrels,  and  lience  courting  the  aid  of  the  principal,  that 
the  latter  thus  acquired  a  sort  of  dominion  over  the  whole  of 
them.  To  bind  these  firmly  together  it  was  necessary  to  annihilate 
in  the  smaller  states  this  sense  of  dependence  on  the  prinr'jial  ; 
to  make  them  all  parts  of  the  same  body,  by  abolishing  their 
particular  magistracies,  bringing  about  a  submission  to  the  same 
general  magistrates,  and  giving  them  a  common  system  of  laws- 
Theseus,  and  his  immediate  successor,  had  attempted  this,  but 
were  unequal  to  the  task.  The  disorders  which  arose  from  the 
tyranny  of  some  of  those  princes  effected  an  union  which  their 
slender  political  talents  had  labored  in  vain  to  accomplish  ;  but 
an  union  hostile  to  their  powers,  which  had  for  its  end  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  regal  office.  Codrus,  the  last  of  the  kings,  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  a  true  patriot,  and  worthy  to  reign  :  but  he  having 
sacrificed  his  own  life  to  save  his  country,  the  Athenians,  dreading 
i  renewal  of  their  former  oppression,  determined  to  make  the  trial 
of  a  new  constitution.  They  were  ignorant,  however,  of  the  best 
means  of  obtaining  what  they  desired.     They  abohshed  the  title 


CH.  X.]  ATHENS.  99 

of  king,  while  the  magistrates  whom  they  put  in  his  place  enjoyed 
ahiiost  tlie  same  autliority.  From  respect  to  the  memory  of 
Codriis,  they  appointed  his  sou  Medon  chief  magistrate,  with  tiie 
title  of  archon  or  commander.  They  conferred  on  him  the  office 
for  Yil'e,  and  even  continued  it  hereditary  in  his  family  ;  so  that  tlie 
Athenian  republic  was  governed  for  331  years  by  a  succession  of 
perpetual  archons  of  the  family  of  Codrus.  Of  the  difference 
between  their  authority  and  that  of  the  former  kings,  historians 
have  given  us  no  distinct  idea.  Some  writers,  indeed,  tell  us,  in 
general  terms,  that  the  perpetual  archons  were  accountable  to  the 
people  for  their  conduct, — a  control  which  the  kings  did  not 
acknowledge  ; — but  as  to  the  ])recise  nature  of  the  Athenian  gov- 
ernment at  this  time,  we  are,  on  the  whole,  extremely  ignorant. 

This  form,  however,  of  a  monarchy  in  all  its  essentials,  though 
without  the  name,  became  in  the  end  equally  grievous  as  that 
which  had  preceded  it.  The  perpetual  archonship  was  abolished, 
and  the  office  was  now  conferred  for  ten  years.  Even  this  dura- 
tion was  found  repugnant  to  the  prevailing  spirit  of  democracy  ; 
and  after  submitting  for  a  few  years  to  the  decennial  archonship, 
they  reduced  the  term  to  a  single  year,  and  appointed  nine  magis- 
trates with  equal  authority.  Of  these  the  chief  was  called  by  pre- 
eminence the  archon^  and,  like  the  Roman  consuls,  gave  his  name 
to  the  current  year  in  the  state  annals.  The  second  archon  had 
the  title  of  kiiig^  (/JwaiAf  uc,)  and  was  the  head  of  the  religion  of 
the  state  ;  the  third  was  termed  the  pohmarck^  from  his  function 
of  regulating  all  military  affairs.  The  remaining  six  archons  were 
called  thesmollietai,  and  held  the  office  of  judges  in  the  civil 
courts  of  the  republic.  The  whole  body  of_  nine  formed  the 
supreme  council  of  the  state. 

Meantime  tne  constitution  was  by  no  means  strictly  defined. 
The  laws  framed  during  the  regal  government,  and  accommodateil 
to  that  despotic  authority,  were  quite  unsuitable  to  the  democratic 
spirit  now  become  predominant  ;  and  no  attempts  had  yet  been 
made  for  their  alteration  or  im|trovement.  The  limited  power  of 
the  annual  magistrates  was  insufficient  to  check  those  factions  and 
disorders  which  a  yearly  returning  election  kept  constantly  alive  ifi 
the  mass  of  the  neople. 

A  virtuous  citizen  of  the  name  of  Draco,  whose  eminent  quali- 
ties had  raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  chief  archon,  was  prompted  to 
attempt  a  n  form,  by  introducing  a  code  of  laws*  which  might 
operate  as  a  restraint  on  all  orders  of  the  state.  Presuming  that 
a  desperate  disease  requires  a  violent  remedy,  and  probably  influ- 
enced by  the  austerity  of  his  own  temper,  the  penal  laws  which 
he  framed  made  no  distinction  of  offences,  but  punished  all  equally 


•  Thpre  wore  probably  no  written    laws  at  Athens  before  those  of  Draco.- 
Jlul.  Cell.  I  1.,  c.  15. 


100  UNIVERSAL  insTonv.  [book  I 

with  (Icaili.  Tlio  a;ciiiiis  of  Draco  was  evidently  nncrjiKiI  to  tlio 
:ask  lie  had  uiidcrlakt'ii  .  lie  made  some  changes  of  form  wilhoul 
the  essence.  He  weakened,  it  is  said,  the  authority  of  liie  Areo- 
pagus, and  instituted  a  new  tribunal,  of  wim  li  the  judges  were 
termed  ephelai^  but  which  was  of  no  duration  ;  and  the  extreme 
severity  of  his  laws  defeated  their  own  object.  They  were  rarely 
executed,  and  fell  at  length  into  con)|)letc  disuse. 

In  the  3d  year  of  the  4Gtli  Olympiad,  and  .'394  years  before  tha 
Christian  era,  Solon,  a  noble  Athenian,  of  the  posterity  of  Codrus, 
attained  the  dignity  of  archon,  and  was  solemnly  intrusted  by  his 
countrymen  with  the  high  power  of  new  modelling  the  slate,  and 
framing  for  the  Athenians  a  complete  digest  of  civil  laws.  Solon 
was  a  man  of  extensive  knowledge,  a  virtuous  man,  and  a  true 
patriot  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  been  deficient  in  that  strength  of 
mind  and  intrepidity  of  nature  which  are  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  reformation  of  a  corrupted  government.  His  disposition  was 
too  placid  and  too  temporizing.  He  aimed  not  at  changing  the 
character  of  his  people,  nor  did  he  at  all  attempt  to  introduce 
that  equality  among  the  citizens  so  essential  to  the  constitution  of 
a  democracy.  Accommodating  himself  to  the  prevailing  passions 
of  men,  rather  than  endeavoring  to  correct  them,  his  laws,  as  he 
said  himself,  were  not  the  best  possible,  but  the  best  which  the 
Athenians  were  capable  of  receiving.* 

The  people  claimed  the  chief  power  in  the  state — Solon  gave 
it  them.  The  rich  wanted  offices  and  dignities — the  system  of 
Solon  accommodated  them  to  the  utmost  of  their  wishes.  He 
divided  the  whole  citizens  into  four  classes.  In  the  three  former 
were  the  richer  gtizens,  according  to  their  different  degrees  of 
wealth.  The  first  class  consisted  of  those  who  were  worth  500 
medimni  of  grain,  or  as  many  measures  of  oil  ;  the  medimnus, 
according  to  Arbuthnoi's  tables  of  weights  and  measures,  was 
somewhat  more  than  four  English  pecks.  The  second  class  con- 
sisted of  those  who  were  worth  300  medimni,  and  who  were  able 
to  furnish  a  horse  in  time  of  war.  The  third  class  comprehended 
such  as  had  200  medimni ;  and  the  fourth  class  consisted  of  all 
the  rest  of  the  citizens.  All  the  dignities  and  offices  of  the  com- 
monwealth were  supplied  out  of  the  three  first  classes,  or  the 
wealthy  citizens  ;  but  the  fourth,  which  was  much  more  numerous 
than  all  the  other  three,  had  their  right  of  suffrage  in  the  Ecclesia, 
public  assemblies,  where  the  whole  important  business  of  the  state 
was  canvassed  and  determined.  The  framing  of  laws,  the  election 
of  magistrates,  the  making  war  or  peace,  the  forming  treaties  and 
alliances,  and  the  regulation  of  all  that  regarded  either  religion  or 
civil  policy,  were  debated  and  decreed  in  the  public  assemblies  ; 


*  Plutarch's  Life  of  Solon. 


CH.    X.J  SOLON.  101 

where  the  fourth  class,  from  tiieir  vist  superiority  of  niunbers, 
carried  every  question,  and  of  course  had  Supreme  rule.  In  these 
assemblies  every  citizen  above  fifty  years  oi  a,2;e  had  the  privilege 
of  haranguing.*  '  ;      ;■.•['-..' 

To  counteract  the  mischief  of  a  govehirnent' entirely  in  the  hands 
of  the  people,  and  to  regulate  in  some  measure  the  proceedingb 
of  those  assemblies,  necessarily  tumultuous  and  undecisive,  Solon 
instituted  a  senate  of  400  members,  chosen  from  among  the  most 
respectable  of  the  citizens,  whom  he  invested  with  the  power  of 
deliberating  on  and  preparing  all  public  measures  before  they  came 
under  the  cognizance  of  the  popular  assemblies;  a  regulation  which 
gave  rise  to  this  just  remark  of  Plutarch,  that  Solon  employed  the 
wise  men  to  reason,  and  the  fools  to  decide.  No  motion  or  over- 
lure  with  regard  to  the  affairs  of  the  commonwealth  could  take  its 
origin  in  the  Ecclesia:  it  must  have  been  previously  canvassed  and 
debated  in  the  Senate.  This  great  council  was  augmented  to  500, 
and  afterwards  to  GOO,  upon  an  increase  of  number  of  the  Athenian 
tribes. 

Still  further  to  restrain  and  moderate  the  proceedings  of  the  pub- 
lic assemblies,  Solon  re-established  the  authority  of  the  Areopagus, 
which  Draco  had  abridged  and  weakened  by  the  institution  of  the 
Epketai.  And  this  tribunal,  of  whose  origin  and  constitution  we 
have  formerly  treated,  was  now  invested  with  more  extensive 
powers  and  privileges  than  it  had  ever  before  enjoyed.  To  this 
august  assembly  Solon  committed  the  guardianship  of  his  laws, 
ancl  the  charge  of  executing  them.  They  had  the  custody  of  the 
public  treasury  —  and,  as  Plutarch  informs  us  in  the  Life  of  The- 
mistoclcs,  the  charge  of  its  expenditure  ;  but  this  last  seems  to 
be  inconsistent  with  the  powers  lodged  in  the  senate  and  peoi)l'.\ 
The  court  of  Areopagus,  likewise,  had  a  tutorial  power  over  all 
the  youth  of  the  republic.  They  appointed  them  masters  and 
governors,  and  superintended  their  education.  They  were  likewise 
the  censors  of  the  manners  of  the  people,  and  were  employed  to 
punish  the  idle  and  disorderly,  and  reward  the  diligent  and  industri- 
ous. For  this  purpose,  they  were  empow(!red  to  inquire  minutely 
into  the  private  life  and  conduct  of  every  citizen;   the  funds  he 


*  To  (jivp  some  'ulea  of  the  nuinbrrs  which  constitulcd  the  public  asseinhly,  or 
the  liccrislature  of  AtluMis,  \vp  loam  from  two  polls  of  the  cilizcns  IIkU  were 
taken,  first  in  llie  time  of  Pericles,  anil  afterwards  in  that  of  I)emetri\is  I'halereu.^, 
that  the  .Allionian  citizens  in  the  former  [jeriod  amounted  to  11 ,040  persons,  and 
in  the  latter  to  yi ,()()().  The  reiiiainiti;r  [inpnlation  of  the  repiitilic  consisted  of 
slaves,  male  and  female,  and  children  and  youth  under  the  aire  of  manhood.  The 
former,  namely,  the  actual  slaves,  amounted  to  no  less  than  400.000.  The  propor- 
tion of  the  free  citizens  to  slaves  was  still  smaller  at  I.acediemon  than  at  .\tliens  ; 
whence  we  may  jud;re  how  fir  liherly  was  trnlv  the  characteristic  of  thes<>  ancient 
repnUlics,  whose  constitution  has  been  the  subject  of  so  much  fnolish  admiration 
See  (lill/is's  Translation  itf  Lysias  and  Isocratcs,  Pre/.  ;  and  Mitford's  Greece,  vol. 
■   p  2:^'3.—  rituciid.  I.  viii.  c.  40 


J02  i;mvi;u.sau  iiistokv.  [bouk   i. 

possessed,  tl)o  profession  Iw?  followed,  and  the  manner  in  uliicli  lie 
spent  liis  rime:  an  .exvjJI-.'iit  instiliilion,  if  wu  could  suppose  il  to 
he  spicily  enforced.  Tlic  rc^ilalion  of  every  thing  that  regarded 
reli;;joi:  -ads  Mkewisf.-  oornniiMed  to  this  high  trihiinal. 

I  have  remarked,  in  a  former  cha|)ler,  that  the  niunher  o(  the 
Areoj)agitcs  seems  to  have  been  various  at  diHerent  periods  ;  as 
some  authors  mefition  this  tribunal  as  consisting  only  of  nine  judges, 
others  of  thirty-one,  and  others  again  of  fifly-onc.  Nay,  there 
is  a  prohahility  that,  in  the  more  advanc(;d  times  of  the  common- 
uealih,  th(>  numbers  wore  even  quadruple  wliat  has  been  men- 
tioned. If  the  trial  of  Socrates  j)roceeded  before  this  court,  uhirh 
the  nature  of  his  crime  Ctiic  charge  of  attacking  the  religion  of  his 
country)  makes  it  presumable  it  did,  we  find  281  judges  who 
voted  against  him,  besides  those  who  gave  their  sufTrages  in  his 
favor. 

The  judges  of  the  Areopjigus  were  chosen  from  among  the  most 
respectable  of  the  citizens,  and  were  generally  such  as  had  dis- 
charged the  office  of  archon.  The  most  scrupulous  attention  was 
|)aid  to  character  in  the  election  of  these  judges.  Tiie  slightest 
imputation  of  immorality,  a  single  act  of  indecency,  or  even  of 
unbecoming  levity,  was  sufficient  to  disqualify  from  obtaining  a  seat 
in  that  tribunal,  or  to  forfeit  a  place  after  it  had  been  conferred. 
To  be  found  in  a  tavern  was  such  a  stain  on  the  character  of  a 
judge,  that  it  was  deemed  a  sufficient  reason  of  exclusion  from 
that  office.  Let  no  Jlreopagite,  sa}s  the  Athenian  laws,  compose 
a  comedy.  That  judge  was  justly  thought  to  have  prostituted  his 
character,  who  had  stooped  to  employ  his  talents  in  furnishing  a 
frivolous  amusement  for  the  people. 

The  institution  of  the  senate,  and  the  revival  of  the  authority  of 
the  Areopagus,  imposed  undoubtedly  some  restraint  on  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  popular  assemblies.  But  still  the  Athenian  pop- 
ulace had  the  ultimate  power  of  decision  in  all  tiie  affiiirs  of  the 
commonwealth ;  a  constitution  that  must  have  rendered  fruitless 
the  regulations  of  the  wisest  legislator  that  ever  existed.  The 
subsequent  detail  of  the  Grecian  history  will  afford  some  strong 
instances  of  the  miseries  which  flow  from  so  defective  a  form  of 
government.  "  Ilia  vetus  Grcecia,  (says  Cicero,)  qti(t  qvondam 
opib^isi,  imperio,  gloria  Jloruit^  hoc  tmo  malo  concidit^  Ubcrlate 
immoderata  ac  licciitid  co7icfon«m."  *  It  was  not  alone  by  this 
disease,  as  we  shall  show  in  its  proper  place,  although  that  must 
unquestionably  be  allowed  to  have  had  a  great  influence.  Athens, 
in  particular,  was  from  that  cause  a  scene  of  incessant  disorders  and 
combustion.      Continual   factions    divided  the  people,  and  it  was 


•"Ancient  Greece  herself — once  floiirisliincf  in  dominion,  wealili,  and  fame 
ffll  by  this  disease  alone — the  immoderate  freedom  and  licentiousness  of  iier 
popular  assemblies." 


CH.  X.J  ATHENS.  IOC 

often  in  the  power  of  a  venal  orator,  a  worlliless  deniagcgue, 
whose  only  merit  was  a  voluble  tongue  and  dauntless  effrontery, 
to  counteract  the  measures  of  the  greatest  political  wisdom,  and 
persuade  to  such  as  were  ruinous  and  disgraceful.  Athens  often 
saw  her  best  patriots,  the  wisest  and  most  virtuous  of  her  citizens, 
shamefully  sacrificed  to  the  most  depraved  and  most  abandoned. 

The  particular  laws  of  the  Athenian  state  were,  generally 
speaking,  more  deserving  of  encomium  than  its  form  of  govern- 
ment. Solon  restrained  the  severity  of  creditors  to  their  debtors, 
by  prohibiting  all  imprisonment  for  debt;  but  he  restrained  at  the 
same  time  the  frequency  of  contracting  debts  by  the  severe  penalty 
of  the  forfeiture  of  the  rights  of  citizenship;  a  punishment  which, 
though  it  did  not  reduce  a  man  to  servitude,  deprived  him  of  all 
voice  in  the  public  assembly,  or  share  in  the  government  of  the 
commonwealth.  In  like  manner,  if  a  debtor  died  insolvent,  his 
lieir  was  disfranchised  till  the  debt  was  paid.  This  was  a  wise 
regulation;  for  no  indigent  man  ought  to  be  a  legislator.  The 
Areopagus,  by  an  inquiry  termed  dokimasia,  inquired  into  the  life 
and  morals  of  all  who  held  offices  in  the  state,  and  such  as  could 
not  stand  the  scrutiny  were  not  only  incapacitated  for  employ,  but 
declared  infamous.  Such  was  the  award  likewise  against  a  son 
who  should  refuse  to  support  his  indigent  parents.  Solon  ordained 
that  a  man's  inheritance  should  be  equally  divided  among  all  his 
lawful  children,  and  allowed  no  higher  provision  to  an  illegitimate 
child  than  Jive  mince.  He  permitted  a  husband  to  divorce  his 
wife  on  restoring  her  dowry;  and  a  wife  to  leave  her  husband 
upon  reasonable  cause  shown  to  a  judge,  and  allowed  by  him. 

By  the  Athenian  laws,  children,  whose  fathers  were  killed  in 
the  service  of  their  country,  were  appointed  to  be  educated  at  the 
public  expense.  "  Let  the  father"  (says  the  laws  of  Solon)  "  have 
the  privilege  of  bestowing  on  that  son  a  funeral  encomium,  who 
died  valiantly  fighting  in  the  field.  He  who  receives  his  death 
while  fighting  with  undaunted  courage  in  the  front  of  the  battle, 
shall  have  an  annual  harangue  spoken  to  his  honor." 

The  laws  relating  to  slaves  did  great  honor  to  the  humanity  of 
the  Athenians,  and  formed  a  strong  contrast  to  the  inhuman  usages 
which  prevailed  with  regard  to  them  at  Laced?Rmon.  All  Athe- 
nian slaves  were  allowed  to  purchase  their  freedom  at  a  price 
stipulated  by  the  magistrate.  If  any  slave  found  his  treatment 
intolerably  severe,  and  was  unable  to  purchase  his  freedom,  he 
might  oblige  his  master  to  sell  him  to  another  who  would  use  him 
better.  The  emancipation  of  a  slave,  however,  did  not  exempt 
him  from  all  the  duties  to  his  master.  He  was  still  bound  to  the 
performance  of  certain  services  which  the  law  prescribed,  and  to 
show  him  due  homage  and  respect  as  a  patron  and  benefactor. 
Such  enfranchised  slaves  were  not  admitted  to  the  rights  of  citi- 
zens. They  were  not  allowed  to  attend  the  public  assemblies; 
nor    could    they  hold    any  office    in    the    commonwealth.     Their 


104  UNIVF-IISAL    III.STOKV.  [nOOK    I 

iifranchist.'mcMU  relieved  iliein  only  from  the  liar(lslii|)S  of  servi- 
tude. Yet  tiiey  might  marry  free  women;  and  their  cliildren  by 
such  had  all  the  rie;hts  of  citizens. 

It  was  a  very  singular  law  of  the  Athenians,  which  permitted  a 
man  to  becjucaih  his  wife,  like  any  other  part  of  his  estate,  to  any 
one  whom  he  chose  for  his  successor.  The  mother  of  Demos- 
thenes was  left  by  will  to  Aphobus,  with  a  fortune  of  eigldi/  viUice. 
The  form  of  such  a  bequest  has  been  |)reserved,  and  runs  thus: 
''  This  is  the  last  will  of  Pasio  the  Acharnean.  I  bcfjueaih  my 
wife  Archippe  to  Phormio,  with  a  fortune  of  one  talent  in  Pepar- 
rhetus,  one  talent  in  Attica,  a  house  worth  a  hundred  uiinx,  together 
with  the  female  slaves,  the  ornaments  of  gold,  and  whatever  else 
may  be  in  it."  * 

One  law  of  a  very  improper  tendency,  was  peculiar  to  the  state 
of  Athens: — it  was  that  which  allowed  a  popular  action  for  most 
offences, — or  permitted  any  citizen  to  be  the  prosecutor  of  any 
crime  committed  against  a  citizen.  An  injury  done  to  an  individ- 
ual, it  is  true,  is  not  only  an  offence  against  tiiat  j)erson,  but  like- 
wise against  the  state,  whose  laws  are  thereby  violated:  yet  it  is 
a  very  dangerous  policy  to  allow  to  any  person  whatever  of  the 
public,  a  right  of  prosecuting  the  aggressors.  It  is  easy  to  con- 
cede what  a  source  would  thus  be  opened  for  unjust,  revengeful, 
and  calumnious  prosecutions.  It  is  true,  that  the  mischiefs  which 
might  possibly  arise  from  this  law  were  counteracted,  in  some 
measure,  by  another  ordinance,  which  declared,  that  any  accuser 
or  prosecutor  who  had  not  a  fifth  pari  of  the  votes  in  his  favor 
should  pay  a  heavy  fine;  but  the  remedy  was  not  adequate  to  the 
evil — for  even  the  most  calumnious  accusations  might  often  find  a 
fifth  part  of  the  people  to  support  them;  and  tl>e  rich  would 
seldom  be  restrained  from  the  gratification  of  malevolence  or 
revenge  by  a  pecuniary  fine. 

This  leads  to  the  mention  of  one  most  impolitic  and  pernicious 
law;  not  indeed  peculiar  to  Athens,  but  common  likewise  to  the 
states  of  Argos,  Megara,  Miletus,  Syracuse,  and  others.  Solon, 
who  found  the  temperament  of  his  countrymen  repugnant  to  those 
rigorous  restraints  on  the  accumulation  of  wealth  which  Lycurgus 
had  established  at  Sparta,  was  desirous  however  of  providing  some 
security  against  the  danger  which  might  arise  in  a  democracy, 
from  any  individual  attaining  an  inordinate  degree  of  power  or 
influence.  For  this  purpose  the  Athenian  lawgiver  retained  and 
enforced  an  ancient  institution  termed  the  Ostracism^  which  was 
said  to  have  been  first  introduced  in  the  age  of  Theseus.  The 
professed  object  of  this  institution  was  not  the  pimishment  of 
offenders.  It  was  not  requisite  that  a  man  should  be  accused  of 
any  crime  to  deserve  the  sentence  of  the  ostracism.     It  was  enough 


Jones's  Coinmcnturi^  on  Isans. 


CH.  X.]  ATHENIAN    OSTIiACISM.  105 

ihat  any  person,  eltlicr  from  his  wcallli,  his  uncommon  talents,  or 
even  his  eminent  virtues,  should  become  an  object  either  of  envy, 
or  of  public  praise  and  admiration.  When  a  citizen  had  arrived 
at  that  degree  of  credit  as  to  fall  under  either  of  those  descriptions, 
and  to  offend  by  too  much  popularity,  any  individual  of  the  people 
might  demand  an  ostracism.  The  ceremony  was  this:  every 
citizen  who  chose  took  a  shell  or  piece  of  tile,  on  which  having 
written  the  name  of  the  person  in  his  Oj)inion  the  most  obnoxious, 
he  carried  it  to  a  certain  place  in  the  forum,  which  was  inclosed 
with  rails,  and  had  ten  gates,  for  ten  tribes.  Officers  were 
appointed  to  count  the  number  of  shells;  for,  if  they  were  fewer 
than  6000,  the  vote  did  not  take  place.  If  they  exceeded  that 
number,  the  several  names  were  laid  apart,  and  the  man  whose 
name  was  found  on  the  greatest  number  of  shells^  was  banished 
for  ten  years  from  his  country;  his  estate  in  the  meantime  remain- 
ing entire  for  his  own  use  or  that  of  the  family. 

This  "s/ie//i'?i^,"  though  it  has  found  its  advocates,  as  ajiparently 
consonant  in  theory  to  the  spirit  of  a  pure  republic,  was  in  pactice 
a  barbarous,  disgraceful,  and  impolitic  institution.  It  powerfully 
repressed  ambition;  but  it  was  by  discouraging  merit  and  the 
desire  of  excellence.  It  afforded  an  easy  handle  for  the  worst  and 
most  dangerous  members  of  the  commonwealth  to  rid  themselves 
of  the  worthiest  and  the  best:  thus  counteracting  its  own  end,  and 
j)aving  the  way  for  that  usurpation  against  which  it  was  intended 
as  a  barrier.  It  recommended  the  worst  passions  of  the  human 
mind  under  the  disguise  of  the  best:  it  substituted  envy  for  patriot- 
ism, made  virtue  criminal,  and  stained  the  nation  with  the  most  op- 
probrious character, — that  of  public  ingratitude.  Thus  we  find,  in 
the  course  of  the  history  of  this  republic,  that  virtue,  without  the 
imputation  or  suspicion  of  ambitious  views,  was  frequently  the 
victim  of  this  pernicious  law.  It  was  enough  that  Aristides  by 
his  virtues  had  merited  the  glorious  epithet  of  just:  that  e])ithc't, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Athenian  people,  was  sufficient  crime.  Wlicn 
Aristides  himself  was  passing  by,  an  illiterate  rustic  requested  him 
to  write  upon  his  shell  the  name  of  Jiristides.  Why,  what  harm, 
my  friend,  said  the  other,  has  Aristides  done  you.^  None  in  the 
world,  replied  the  clown;  but  I  hate  to  hear  every  body  call  niin 
the  Jusl.  Thucydides,  from  whom  Athens  had  received  the  most 
eminent  services,  at  length  the  victim  of  ostracism,  composed  in 
his  exile  that  history  in  which  he  records  the  fame  of  his  ungrateful 
country;  a  fact  which  has  drawn  from  Cicero  this  severe  but  just 
remark:  —  "Hos  libros  tum  scri|)sisse  dicitur,  cum  a  republica 
remotus,  et  id  quod  optimo  cuique  civi  Athenis  accidere  soliium 
est,  in  exilium  pulsus  esset."*     With  much  reason  does  Valerius 


*  "  Those  proat  works  are  said  to  have  been  wrillou  when  he  was  driven 
into  exile;  tlie  coiiirnon  reward  bestowed  hy  Alliens  on  her  most  viiluom 
citizens." 

VOL.    I.  14 


lOG  UNIVERSAL    HISTOKV.  [iJOOK    I 

Maxiiims,  irftcr  cnuiiicratiiig  the  instances  of  similar  ingratitude  to 
Miki;ules,  to  Cimoii,  to  Tliemistoclcs,  to  Pliocion,  atui  particularly 
to  Arisliclos,  exclaim  with  bitter  irony:  —  "Felices  Atlicnas,  quae 
post  illius  exilium  invcnirc  aliquem  aut  viruin  Loiuiiu,  aut  amantem 
sui  civcin  poliicrunt."  * 

The  laws  of  Solon,  unlike  those  of  Lycurgus,  were  all  com- 
mitted to  writing:  but  one  fault,  common  to  all  the  laws  of  the 
Athenian  legislator,  was  the  obscurity  wiih  which  they  were 
expressed:  a  capital  defect  indeed  of  laws,  when,  instead  of  a 
clear  warning  voice,  which,  teaching  every  man  his  duty,  represses 
litigation,  they  mislead  by  their  obscurity,  and  are  thus  the  per- 
petual source  of  contest  and  chicane. 

It  was  a  singular  peculiarity  of  the  constitution  of  Athens,  and, 
as  Plutarch  informs  us,  likewise  of  Thebes,  that  after  a  law  was 
voted  and  passed  in  the  assembly  of  the  })eople,  the  proposer  of 
the  law  might  have  been  cited  in  the  ordinary  civil  courts,  tried, 
and  brought  to  punishment,  if  the  court  was  of  opinion  that  the 
law  was  prejuilicial  to  the  public.  This  peculiarity  is  noticed  in 
one  of  Mr.  Hume's  political  essays,  (Of  some  remarkable  Cxis 
toms,)  and  that  author  mentions  several  examples  in  the  Grecian 
history;  among  the  rest,  the  trial  of  Ctesiphon,  for  that  law  which 
he  had  pro])osed  and  carried,  for  rewarding  the  services  of  Demos- 
thenes with  a  crown  of  gold;  atrial  which  gave  occasion  to  two 
of  the  most  splendid  and  animated  orations  that  remain  to  us  of  the 
composition  of  the  ancienis;  the  orations  of  i?<ischines  and  Demos- 
thenes riFQl  cFcpuyov.  This  species  of  trial  was  entitled  the  I'guqr} 
n(/^(f;o,(/wj,  or  the  indictment  of  illegality;  and  was  intended  as  a 
check  upon  the  popular  leaders,  who,  by  their  influence  in  the 
public  assemblies,  were  able  frequently  to  procure  the  enactment 
of  most  pernicious  laws.  This  was  indeed  a  violent  remedy,  and 
apparently  very  contrary  to  republican  freedom;  but  it  was 
esteemed  so  beneficial  a  provision,  that  iEschines,  in  his  oration 
against  Ctesiphon,  maintains  that  the  democracy  could  not  subsist 
without  it. 

An  appeal  lay  from  all  the  Athenian  tribunals,  except  the 
Areo|)agus,  to  the  ccclesia,  or  assembly  of  the  people.  The  inter- 
pretation of  the  laws  may  thus  be  said  to  have  depended  ultimately 
on  the  judgment  of  a  populace  swayed  by  prejudices,  divided  by 
faction,  or  the  dupes  of  a  worthless  otaior  or  demagogue.  The 
Athenian  jurisprudence,  therefore,  rested  on  no  fixed  principles, 
or  solid  basis.  It  is  almost  equivalent  to  a  total  want  of  laws, 
to  have  such  only  as  the  passions  and  caprices  of  a  people  can 
mould  or  distort,  or  at  pleasure  so  interpret,  as  to  accommodate  to 
the  most  oj)posiie  purposes. 


•"  Happy  Alliens!   tliat,  aflor  driving:  sucli  a  man  from    her   bosom,  coald 
yet  find  one  virtuous  or  devoted  citizen  remaining." 


CII     X.j  ATHENS.  107 

I  have  thus  endeavored  very  briefly  to  trace  the  oiillines  of 
the  Athenian  Constitution.  The  distinct  powers  of  every  branch 
of  tnat  constitution,  and  the  precise  extent  of  jurisdiction,  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  the  several  courts,  have  occupied  many 
volumes,  and  supplied  an  immense  field  of  learned  but  uiiimi)ortant 
controversy,  which  furnishes  at  least  a  proof  of  the  difiicuky  of 
obtaining  distinct  notions  of  the  particular  features  of  this  constitu- 
tion, though  its  general  nature  appears  sufficiently  intelligible. 
Those  who  wish  to  go  more  into  detail  ought  to  peruse  with  atten- 
tion the  fragment  of  Aristotle  concerning  the  Athenian  Constitution, 
the  2d,  -Ith,  and  6lh  books  of  his  Politics,  the  tract  of  Xenophon 
on  the  Athenian  Republic,  the  Life  of  Solon  by  Plutarch,  the 
JJrchccoIogia  of  Archbishop  Potter,  and,  to  sum  up  all,  the  various 
information  concerning  the  Athenian  state,  contained  in  the  The- 
saurui  Grcecarum  JlnliqxiUatum  of  Gronovius. 

The  manners  of  the  Athenians  formed  a  most  striking  contrast 
to  those  of  the  Lacedaemonians.  It  is,  in  fact,  hardly  possible  to 
find  a  greater  dissimilarity  even  in  nations  inhabiting  the  most 
opposite  extremes  of  the  earth.  The  Athenian  found,  either  in 
his  relish  for  serious  business,  or  in  his  taste  for  pleasure,  a  con- 
stant occupation.*  The  arts  at  Athens  met  with  the  highest 
encouragement.  The  luxiny  of  the  rich  perpetually  employed 
the  industry  of  the  poor;  and  the  sciences  were  cultivated  with 
the  same  ardor  as  the  arts;  for  the  connection  of  mental  enjoy- 
ments with  moderate  gratification  of  sense  is  the  refinement  of 
luxury.  But  in  the  pleasures  of  the  Athenians,  unless,  indeed,  in 
the  most  corrupted  times  of  the  commonwealth,  decency  was  most 
scrupulously  observed.  We  have  seen  those  rigid  restraints  on 
the  conduct  of  magistrates.  An  archon  convicted  of  drunkenness 
was,  for  the  first  offence,  condemned  to  pay  a  heavy  fine,  and  for 
a  second  was  punished  with  death.  This  general  decency  of 
character  was  much  heightened  by  a  certain  urbanity  of  manners, 
which  eminently  distinguished  the  Athenians  above  all  the  other 
states  of  Greece.  There  are  some  singular  proofs  of  this  character 
recorded,  even  of  their  public  measures,  flutarch,  in  the  life  of 
Demosthenes,  has  mentioned  two  remarkable  examples.  In  the 
war  against  Philip  of  Macudon,  one  of  the  couriers  of  that  prince 
was  intercepted,  and  his  despatches  seized;  they  opened  all  the 
letters  which  he  carried,  except  those  written  by  Pliilij)'s  queen, 
Olympia,  to  her  hns!)and.  These  the  Athenians  transmitted 
inimediately  to  Philip,  with  the  seals  unbroken.  In  the  same 
war,  Philip  was  susjiected  of  having  distributed  bribes  among  the 
Athenian  orators.  Their  houses  were  ordered  to  be  searched; 
but  with  singular  regard    to  decorum,  they  forbade  to  break  into 


*  The  best  snurcps  of  information  with  retrnrd  to  the  jrenenl  mnnners  of  the 
Atiienians,  are  the  (.'omedirs  of  ^/risti/f/lninrs,  the  Cliiiriicters  of  Tlicophrastut 
the  Ij.tics  of  Plutarch,  and  liie  Orations  of  Demosthenes. 


103  UNIVKKSAr.    IIl.'.TOKV.  [dOOK    t 

the  house  of  Calliclcs,  because  he  was  then  newly  married.  Such 
was  certainly  the  natural  cliaracter  of  the  Athenians, — generous, 
decent,  liuniane,  and  jjolished;  but  tiie  turbulence  and  inconstancy 
insej);n-able  from  a  democratic  constitution,  often  stained  their 
public  measures  with  a  character  very  opposite  to  the  natural  dis- 
j)osition  of  the  people.  We  have  more  flagrant  instances  of  public 
ingratitude  in  the  single  stale  of  Athens,  than  are  to  be  fcnind 
])erh;ip?  in  all  the  other  states  and  kingdoms  of  antiquity.* 

The  caj)ital  features  of  the  two  great  republics  of  Greece, 
Sparta  and  Athens,  may  be  thus  briefly  delineated.  Sparta  was 
altogether  a  military  establishment;  every  other  art  was  prohibited 
— industry  among  individuals  was  unknown,  and  domestic  economy 
unnecessary,  for  all  was  in  common.  The  Lacedemonians  were 
active  only  when  at  war.  In  peace,  their  manner  of  life  was 
languid,  uniform,  indolent,  and  insipid.  Taught  to  consider  war 
as  the  sole  honorable  or  manly  occupation,  they  contracted  a 
rigid  and  ferocious  turn  of  mind,  which  distinguished  them  from  all 
the  other  states  of  Greece.  Despising  the  arts  themselves,  they 
despised  all  who  cultivated  them.  Their  constitution  was  fitted 
to  form  and  to  maintain  a  small,  a  brave,  and  an  independent 
slate;  but  had  no  tendency  to  produce  a  great,  a  polished,  or  a 
conquering  people. 

At  Athens,  peace  was  the  natural  state  of  the  republic;  and 
the  institutions  of  Solon  tended  to  form  his  fellow  citizens  for  the 
enjoyment  of  civil  happiness.  It  was  a  punishable  crime  at  Athens 
to  be  idle,  and  every  citizen  was  compelled  to  industry,  and  to 
the  utmost  exertion  of  his  talents.  It  was  not  enough  that  each 
should  choose  himself  a  particular  profession.  The  court  of  Areo- 
pagus inquired  into  and  ascertained  the  extent  o(  his  funds,  the 
amount  of  his  expenditure,  and  consequently  the  measure  of  his 
industry  and  economy.  The  sciences  were  in  contempt  at  Sparta; 
but  dependent  on  the  arts,  and  essential  to  the  highest  and  most 


"  Plutarch  records  many  anecdotes,  whicli  strongly  mark  tiie  fickleness  of 
the  character  of  the  Athenians.  The  followinLr  may  serve  as  an  e.xample  : — 
Theniistocles  intimated  in  public  that  he  had  formed  a  most  important  project, 
but  that  the  strictest  secrecy  was  necessary  to  insure  its  success.  The  people 
answered,  "  Let  it  be  told  to  Aristides  alone,  and  we  shall  be  regulated  by  his 
advice."  Themistocles  acquainted  Aristides  that  the  project  was  to  burn  the 
fleet  of  tlie  combined  stales,  then  at  anchor  in  perfect  security  in  the  harbor 
of  Pegasus;  a  scheme  which  would  give  Athens  the  absolute  command  of 
Greece.  Ari.^tides  told  the  people  that  nothing  could  be  more  advanlaireoua 
than  the  project  of  Themistocles ;  but  nothing  at  the  same  time  more  unjust. 
The  whole  assembly  with  one  voice  cried  out,  ''  Let  us  have  nothing  to  do  with 
it."  This  was  to  feel  and  to  decide  with  rectitude  and  propriety.  But  mark  a 
striking  contrast  to  this  honorable  decisitm.  A  few  years  afterwards,  it  was 
proposed  to  the  .\llienians,  to  violate  an  article  of  a  treaty  formed  with  the 
allies  of  the  republic.  The  people  asked  the  advice  of  Aristides,  who,  in  the 
same  spirit  as  bef  ire.  told  them,  that  the  counsel  was  advantifreous,  but  unjust 
The  upright  statesman  had  no  lonirer  the  same  influence  ;  tlie  perfidious  sug 
jestion  was  now  unanimously  approved  of. 


CH.     X.]  ATHENS    AND    SPARTA.  lOS 

rational  enjoyment  of  life,  they  were  lield  at  Athens  in  the  greatest 
honor  and  esteem.  Luxury  was  the  characteristic  of  the  Athe- 
nian, as  frugality  of  the  Spartan.  They  were  equally  jealous  of 
their  lil)erty;  because  liberty  was  equally  necessary  to  each,  for 
the  enjoyment  of  his  favorite  scheme  of  life.  In  the  best  times 
of  bolii  republics,  their  military  character  was  nearly  equal.  The 
bravery  of  the  Spartan  sprang  from  a  fostered  hardihood,  and  con- 
stitutional ferocity;  the  courage  of  the  Athenian  was  derived  from 
the  principle  of  honor.  The  character  of  the  individual  at 
Athens  was  humane,  polite,  equitable,  and  social;  but  from  a 
faulty  constitution,  the  character  of  the  public  was  fickle,  inconstant, 
frivolous,  cruel,  and  ungrateful. 

The  revenue  of  the  territory  of  Attica  has  admitted  of  various 
estimations  by  different  authors.  The  Athenians,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  their  first  war  with  Lacedaemon,  before  proceeding 
to  vote  the  necessary  supplies  for  the  armament,  made  a  general 
estimate,  as  Polybius  informs  us,  of  their  lands,  their  houses,  and 
their  whole  property,  which  did  not  quite  amount  to  6000  talents; 
a  sum  equivalent  to  1,162,500/.  sterling'.  Demosthenes,  in  one 
of  his  orations  touching  on  this  subject,  makes  the  value  of  the 
and  of  Attica  amount  nearly  to  that  sum,  exclusive  of  houses  and 
effects.  Meursius  extravagantly  supposes  this  to  mean  the  annual 
value  of  the  lands;  a  computation  which  would  make  the  revenue  of 
Attica,  a  small  territory  of  sixty  miles  in  length,  and  thirty  broad, 
exceed  the  annual  census  of  several  of  the  European  kingdoms. 
In  ancient  Greece,  gold  and  silver  bore  a  much  higher  proportion 
to  other  commodities  than  they  do  at  present.  The  same  quantity 
of  these  metals  would,  in  those  times,  have  purchased  in  Greece 
nearly  ten  times  as  much  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  or  commanded 
ten  times  as  much  labor,  as  at  present  in  most  of  the  countries  of 
Europe.  A  strong  presumption,  therefore,  arises,  that  even  the 
most  moderate  of  those  accounts  of  the  census  of  Attica  are  much 
exaggerated. 

The  Spartan  government  had  acquired  solidity,  while  all  the 
rest  of  Greece  was  yet  unsettled,  and  torn  by  domestic  dissensions. 
Mad  the  Spartans  then  aspired  at  extending  their  dominion,  they 
(night  with  great  facility  have  subdued  all  Greece.  But  the 
ambition  of  extensive  conquest  was  not  agreeable  to  the  spirit  of 
their  constitution.  Their  passion  for  liberty  prompted  them  rather 
to  assist  others  in  maintaining  or  asserting  their  independence;  and 
this  generous  conduct  inspired  so  high  a  respect  for  their  equity 
and  moderation,  that  contending  states  not  unfrequently  chose 
them  the  umpires  of  their  dillerences.  Yet  though  tiiis  was  their 
general  character,  there  are  some  instances  of  their  departure, 
even  in  those  early  times,  from  this  generosity  of  conduct.  Their 
behavior  to  the  Messenians,  a  neighboring  people  who  solicited 
their  aid  in  war,  was  extremely  dishonorable.  They  took  ad- 
vantage of  their  weakness,  to  reduce  this  unfortunate   people  to 


no  LNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK   i 

llie  condition  of  slavs,  as  tliey  had  before  dune  hy  ihe  Helots. 
It  was  contrary  to  their  laws  to  conimunicato  to  strangers  the 
rij!;hts  of  citizenship;  and  we  have  before  remarked,  that  when 
the  number  of  their  slaves  increasing  gave  ror.in  to  ajjprehcnd 
danger  to  the  state,  it  was  customary  to  reduce  them  by  a  general 
massacre. 

While  the  power  of  Sparta  was  thus  high  amona;  the  states  of 
Peloponnesus,  Athens,  a  prey  to  faction  and  civil  discord,  was  for 
a  while  threatened  with  the  entire  loss  of  that  liberty  which  she 
had  scarcely  begun  to  enjoy.  Pisistratus,  a  relation  of  Solon,  a 
man  of  splendid  talents,  highly  popular  from  his  wealti)  and  liber- 
aliiy,  began  secretly  to  aspire  at  the  sovereign  power.  He  pro|)a- 
gated  a  report,  that  his  enemies,  jealous  of  his  asserting  the  rights 
of  the  people,  had  endeavored  to  assassinate  him;  and  on  thai 
pretence  demanded  a  guard  for  the  protection  of  his  person,  which 
he  employed  in  seizing  the  citadel.  The  Athenians  submitted 
without  much  opposition.  Solon,  indignant  at  the  unworthy  con- 
duct of  his  kinsman,  attempted  to  revive  the  patriotic  sj)irit  of  his 
countrymen,  and  urge  the  recovery  of  their  freedom;  but  he  met 
with  no  support;  and  the  aged  lawgiver,  unable  to  brook  the  de- 
gradation of  his  country,  bade  adieu  to  Athens,  and  died  in  volun- 
tary exile. 

A  considerable  party  of  the  citizens,  however,  were  secretly 
hostile  to  the  usurpation  of  Pisistratus.  The  faction  of  the 
AlcmagonidcB,  of  whom  the  chiefs  were  ^legacies  and  Lycurgus, 
gained  at  length  so  much  strength  as  to  attack  and  expel  the 
usurper  from  the  city.  The  stratagem  by  which  he  regained  his 
power  is  a  singular  instance  of  the  force  of  superstition.  He  pro- 
cured a  beautiful  female  to  personate  the  goddess  Minerva.  Seated 
on  a  lofty  chariot,  she  drove  into  the  city,  while  her  attendants 
proclaimed  aloud  that  their  tutelary  deity  had  deigned  in  person  to 
visit  them,  and  to  demand  the  restoration  of  her  favorite  Pisis- 
tratus. A  general  acclamation  hailed  the  auspicious  presence,  and 
all  paid  obedience  to  the  heavenly  summons.  Pisistratus  thus 
restored  was  a  second  time  expelled  by  the  faction  of  the  Alcmae- 
onida^,  and  remained  for  eleven  years  in  exile.  But  the  talents 
and  the  virtues  of  this  extraordinary  man,  for  such  he  really  pos- 
sessed, had  gained  him  many  friends;  and  with  their  aid  he  finally 
triumphed  over  all  his  enemies.  His  return  to  Athens  was  marked 
by  a  proclamation  of  general  pardon  to  all  who  had  opposed  him, 
and  chose  quietly  to  return  to  their  allegiance;  and  he  regained 
at  once,  and  continued  during  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  possess, 
the  favor  and  adection  of  the  people;  leaving  at  his  death  a 
peaceable  crown  to  his  sons  Hippias  and  Hipparchus. 

Pisistratus  was  a  man  of  elegant  talents,  and  a  zealous  cn- 
courager  of  literature.  He  patronized  Simonides  and  otlier  con- 
temporary poets;  and  he  conferred  a  memorable  service  on  his 
country  and  on  the  world,  by  collecting  and  publishing  the  hitherto 
scattered  fragments  of  the  j)oems  of  Homer. 


en.  X.]  ATHENS.  I  1  1 

Pisistratiis,  much  lo  his  honor,  had  made  no  ahcration  on  llie 
forms  of  the  rcpubhc  as  established  by  Solon  ;  and  his  sons,  who 
inherited  their  fiither's  spirit  and  dispositions,  trod  in  his  footstej)?. 
Thucydides  informs  us,  that  the  only  mark  of  their  ascendency  in  the 
state  was  the  appointment  of  their  friends  and  partisans  to  the  chief 
offices  of  the  republic.  Plato  has  celebrated  the  character  of 
Hipparchus  as  one  of  the  most  perfect  to  be  found  in  history.  His 
principal  aim  seems  to  have  been  to  polish  and  improve  his  coun- 
trymen, by  encouraging  and  cultivating  the  liberal  arts  and  foster- 
jng  the  literary  spirit  ;  while  his  brother  Hippias  bent  his  atlenlion 
to  the  finances  of  the  republic,  the  enlargement  and  embellishment 
of  the  city,  and  the  regulation  of  its  military  strength.  The  cir- 
cumstances which  put  an  end  to  their  government  are  variously 
related  by  historians  ;  but  they  agree  in  this  fact,  that  it  was  pri- 
vate revenge,  and  no  motive  of  state  policy  or  patriotism,  that 
incited  Harmodius  and  Aristogiton  to  conspire  their  death.  The 
common  story  is,  that  Hipparchus  having  debauched  the  sister  of 
Harmodius,  and  afterwards  aflronted  her  while  she  walked  in  a 
public  procession,  her  brother,  in  revenge  for  this  atrocious  injury, 
with  the  aid  of  his  friend  Aristogiton,  conspired  and  effected  the 
death  of  the  aggressor.  At  the  celebration  of  the  feast  of  Minerva, 
Harmodius  afacked  and  kilhed  Hijiparchus,  but  was  himself  mas- 
sacred in  the  attempt.  The  character  and  temper  of  Hippias, 
hitherto  mild  and  amiable,  underwent  a  change  from  the  period  of 
his  brother's  fate.  Fear  and  suspicion  made  him  assume  a  se- 
verity of  conduct  contrary  to  his  nature  ;  and  an  extreme  rigor  in 
the  punishment  of  all  whom  he  dreaded  or  suspected,  soon  ren- 
dered his  government  as  odious  as  it  had  once  been  popular. 

The  faction  of  the  Alcmffionidt-e,  who  had  once  succeeded  in 
dethroning  Pisistratus,  had,  upon  his  restoration,  been  exi)elled 
and  banished  Attica.  They  now  plotted  the  dethronement  of 
Hippias,  and  found  the  temper  of  the  Athenians  favorable  to  their 
wishes.  The  oracle  of  Delphos  was  bribed,  in  order  to  procure 
them  the  aid  of  the  Lacedipmonians.  The  Pythia  continually 
prophesied,  that  Sparta  would  fail  in  all  her  enterprises,  till  she 
merited  the  favor  of  the  go:!s,  by  delivering  Athens  from  the 
tyrannv  of  the  Pisistratidic.  The  Lacedaemonians  accordingly 
declared  war,  and  invaded  Attica,  headed  by  their  king  Cleomencs. 
Athens  surrendered  to  a  superior,  force,  and  Hippias,  driven  into 
banishment,  retired  to  Sigeum,  on  the  Hellespont.  The  freedom 
)f  the  city,  thus  ingloriously  restored,  was  celebrated  with  high 
festivity,  and  statues  were  erected  to  the  honor  of  Harmodius 
and  Aristogiton,  as  the  authors  of  their  country's  deliverance 
from  tyranny. 

But  the  popular  government  was  scarcely  thus  re-established, 
when  it  sustained  a  new  assault  from  Cleislhenes,  one  of  the 
AlcmiBonida;,   who,  on    the  ascendency  of  the  prevailing   faction, 


112  UNIVEnsAI,    HISTORY.  fliOOK   1 

iiad  sought  to  act  a  similar  part  vvili  Pisistiatiis  and  liis  sons. 
lie  foiiiid,  however,  a  powerful  rival  in  fsaj^oras,  who  eheiished 
liie  same  amhilioiis  views  ;  and  who,  with  the  aid  of  Cleoinencs 
and  the  Spartans,  expelled  Clislhenes  and  drove  with  hiui  into 
hanishmenl  no  less  than  seven  hundred  of  the  principal  Athenian 
families.  The  selfish  schemes  of  Isagoras  were  first  manifested 
in  an  attempt  to  abolish  the  senate,  or  to  change  all  its  members 
and  abridge  their  number.  A  proceeding  thus  violent  and  ir.i- 
politic  roused  the  people  at  once.  They  drove  Cleomenes  and 
his  Snartans,  together  with  Isagoias,  out  of  Athens,  and  recalled 
Clisthencs  with  the  wiiole  of  the  exiled  families. 

T'le  LacedcTinonians,  indignant  at  this  disgrace  of  their  king 
and  countrymen,  were  now  wholly  bent  on  revenge.  A  principal 
means  appeared  to  be  the  re-establishment  of  Hippias,  and  for 
that  purpose,  the  other  states  of  Greece,  and  particularly  Corinth, 
were  urged  to  join  in  the  enterprise.  But  Corinth  loved  her  own 
liberty,  and  respected  that  of  others.  She  refused  to  accede  to' 
the    alliance;    and  the   rest    of  the  states  followed    her    example. 

Hippias,  disappointed  of  that  aid  he  expected  from  the  jealousy 
entertained  by  the  petty  states  of  the  predominance  of  Athens, 
now  looked  towards  a  foreign  alliance.  Darius,  the  son  of 
Hystaspes,  under  whom  the  Persian  empire  was  splendid  and 
flourishing,  meditated,  at  this  juncture,  the  conquest  of  Greece. 
Hippias  disgracefully  availed  himself  of  the  views  of  an  enemy 
against  th*^,  general  liberty  of  his  country,  and  courted  the  assist- 
ance of  Artaphernes,  the  Persian  governor  of  Sardes,  to  re-estai)- 
Msh  him  on  the  throne  of  Athens  Artaphernes  eagerly  embraced 
a  proposal,  which  promised  efiectually  to  second  the  views  of  his 
sovereign  ;  and  Greece  now  saw  herself  inevitably  involved  in  a 
ivar  with  Persia. 

The  subject  of  the  war  with  Persia  naturally  induce^  a  retro 
spective  view  of  the  origin  of  this  monarchy  ;  its  ancient  history 
and  the  government,  policy,  and  manners  of  this  great  empire  ; 
Qeld  of  inquiry  on  which  we  shall  enter  in  the  following  chapte 


CH     XI.  1  THE    PERSIANS.  113 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Oriciw  )f  the  Persian  Monarchy — End  of  the  first  Assyrian  Empire — Era 
ot  Nabonassar—  Monarchy  of  the  Medes ;  Dejoccs,  Phraortes,  Cyaiarea, 
Nabopolassar-  Nnbuchodonozor  II. — Captivity  of  the  Jews — Cyrus  the  elder 
— Cambyses — Darius,  son  of  (lystaspes — Conquest  of  Babylon — His  War 
airainst  ihe  Scythians — His  conquest  of  India — Government,  Customs,  and 
Manners  of  the  Persians — Education  of  tlieir  Princes — General  Education 
of  the  Persian  Youth — National  Character  of  the  Persians — Military  Char- 
acter— Government — Administration  of  Justice — Religion  of  the  Ancient 
Persians — Zoroaster;  Uncertainty  of  his  History — The  Second  Zoroaster — 
Translation  of  the  Zendavesta  by  Anquetil — Cosmogrony  of  ihe  Zendavesta 
— Manicheism^Practical  and  Moral  parts  of  the  Persian  Reli<rion — The 
S.idder — Change  in  the  Manners  of  the  Persians — State  of  Greece  at  the 
time  of  the  Persian  War. 

Having  pursued,  in  some  of  the  preceding  chapters,  the  general 
outlines  of  the  history  of  Greece,  from  the  time  when  the  leading: 
rejiublics  of  Sparta  and  Athens  had  assumed  a  fixed  and  regular 
constitution,  to  the  commencement  of  the  Persian  war,  I  now  pro- 
pose, in  conformity  with  the  plan  laid  down  in  the  beginning  of 
this  work,  to  look  back  to  the  origin  of  the  Persian  monarchy,  to 
delineate  very  briefly  the  early  periods  of  its  history,  and  to  ex- 
hibit a  general  view  of  the  goveinment,  genius,  policy,  and  man- 
ners of  this  ancient  people.  Such  a  retrospect  will  serve  to  throw 
light  upon  their  subsequent  history,  and  familiarize  us  to  I  heir 
acquaintance  when,  under  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  Xerxes, 
Artaxerxes,  Dai-ius  Ochus,  and  Codomanus,  we  see  the  force 
of  that  splendid  empire  opposed  to  the  valor  and  intrepidity  of 
Greece. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  the  first  empire  of  the  Assyrians  ended 
under  Sardanapalus,  when  Arbaces,  governor  of  the  Medes,  and 
Belesis,  governor  of  Bafiylon,  shook  off  the  yoke  of  that  effemi* 
nate  prince.  Three  monarchies  arose  from  the  ruins  of  that  em- 
pire— that  of  Nineveh,  or  the  second  Assyrian  empire,  that  of 
Babylon,  and  that  of  the  Medes. 

To  Belesis  succeeded  Nabonassar,  whose  accession  to  the  tiirone 
IS  the  beginning  of  an  astronomical  era,  called  the  Era  of  Nabo- 
nassar. It  is  fixed  747  years  before  Jesus  Christ,  at  which  time 
the  Chalda?an  astronomical  observations  began,  which  have  been 
handed  down  to  us  by  Ptolemy  the  geographer.  The  history  of 
the  kings  of  Babylon  succeeding  Nabonassar  is  entirely  unknown. 
Tliat.  of  the  monarchs  of  Nineveh  is  very  little  better  known, 
unless  by  the  ravages  they  committed  in   Palestine.     We   read  5n 

VOL.    I.  15 


114  U.MVKH.SAI.    HISTORY.  |^BOOK  I 

Scrii»Uire  of  tlic  foiu|iiosls  of  Tighiili-pilczcr,  whom  ilie  impious 
Acliaz,  iving  of  Jutlali,  had  called  to  his  aid  against  I  he  Israelites  ; 
of  the  conqucsls  of  his  son  Salmanazar,  who  carried  Ilosca  and 
the  ten  tribes  of  Israel  into  captivity  ;  of  those  of  Sennacherib, 
the  son  of  Salmanazar,  who  was  assassinated  by  his  two  elder 
sons,  and  succeeded  by  his  third,  Esarhaddon.  With  these  gen- 
eral facts  we  are  acquainted  from  the  Holy  ScrIj)tiiros,*  and  we 
know  that,  under  this  last  reign,  the  kingdom  of  Bahylon  was 
united  to  that  of  Nineveh,  or  the  second  cmj)ire  of  Assyria. 

The  monarchy  of  the  Medes,  the  third  of  those  which  sprang 
from  the  ruins  of  the  first  Assyrian  empire,  appears  to  have  begun 
later  than  the  other  two  ;  for  Dojoccs,  its  first  sovereign,  mounted 
the  throne  the  same  year  with  Esarhaddon.  The  iiistory  of  this 
Dejoces  is  extremely  uncertain.  He  is  reported  to  have  built  the 
city  of  Ecbatan,  and  to  have  bestowed  much  pains  in  polishing 
and  civilizing  his  people:  yet  those  laws  which  he  is  said  to  have 
enacted  breatlred  strongly  the  spirit  of  despotism.  It  was  com- 
mon to  the  Asiatic  monarchs  very  rarely  to  show  themselves  to 
their  subjects.  Dejoces  is  said  to  have  carried  the  haughtiness  of 
his  deportment  to  an  unusual  height.  It  was  death  only  to  smile 
in  his  presence.  We  should  be  inclined  to  doubt  many  of  those 
facts  which  are  recorded  of  the  capricious  tyranny  of  some  of  the 
eastern  monarchs,  were  they  not  transmitted  to  us  by  the  gravest 
and  most  authentic  of  the  ancient  writers. 

Dejoces  left  the  crown  of  Media  to  his  son  Phraortes,  who 
conquered  the  Persians,  and  subdued  a  great  part  of  Asia  ;  but 
was  vanquished  at  length  by  Nabuchodonozor  I.,  king  of  Assyria, 
made  jirisoner,  and  put  to  death.  Cyaxares,  the  son  and  successor 
of  Phraortes,  in  alliance  with  Nabopolassar,  king  of  Babylon, 
besieged  Nineveh,  destroyed  that  splendid  capital,  and  decided 
the  monarchy  between  them. 

The  son  of  Nabojwlassar  was  Nabuchodonozor  II.,  a  prince 
remarkable  in  those  times  for  his  extensive  conquests.  Necao  'or 
Pharaoh  Necho)  king  of  Egypt,  had  wrested  from  the  Assyrian 
monarchy  the  provinces  of  Syria  and  Palestine.  They  were 
recovered  by  Nabuchodonozor  and  Cyaxares,  who,  with  a  vast 
army  of  10,000  chariots,  130,000  foot,  and  120,000  horse,  inva- 
ded and  laid  waste  the  country,  besieged  Jerusalem,  and  took  its 
king,  Jchoiakim,  ])risoner.  '  Tyre  was  likewise  taken  after  a  siege 
of  ten  months.  The  allied  princes  divided  their  conquests  ;  but 
we  are  ignorant  of  the  precise  shares  of  each  sovereign.  To 
Nabuchodonozor,  or,  as  in  Scripture  he  is  named,  Nebuchadnezzar, 
we  must  assign  the  dominion  of  Jerusalem,  as  it  is  to  him  that  the 
seventy  years'  captivity  of  the  Jew's,  predicted  by  Jeremiah,  is 


*  See  the  Books  of  Kings,  Chronicles,  Hosea;    likewise  Josephus    list,  and 
Prideaux  Connex. 


en.   XI. J  THE    PERSIA.VS.  I  1 .5 

jittributeJ  by  the  inspired  writers.  Among  the  Jewish  captives 
carried  by  Nebiichadiiozzar  to  Babylon  was  the  prophet  Daniel, 
then  a  youth  named  Belteshazzar,  who  attained  liigh  favor  with 
the  Assyrian  monarch,  and  was  made  by  him  ruler  of  the  province 
of  Babylon.  From  Judira,  Nebuchadnezzar  pushed  his  conquests 
into  Egypt,  and,  detln-oning  Pharaoh  Necho,  gave  the  government 
of  tlie  country  to  Amazis.  The  chronology  of  these  events  is 
extremely  confused,  and  it  were  a  vain  and  fruitless  labor  to 
attempt  to  fix  with  precision  their  orders  and  series.  Nebuchad- 
nezzar II.  died  after  a  reign  of  forty-tiiree  years,  leaving  a  monarchy 
more  vast  than  powerful — an  object  which  offered  an  easy  conquest 
to  the  Persians,  when  Cyrus,  their  king,  raised  the  Persian  empire, 
liitherto  a  petty  and  barbarous  dominion,  to  a  height  superior  to 
that  of  all  the  contemporary  nations  of  the  earth. 

The  name  of  Cyrus  is  extremely  illustrious  among  ancient 
writers;  yet  nothing  can  be  more  uncertain  than  his  history. 
Herodotus,  Ctesias,  and  Xenophon,  the  latest  of  whom  was  not 
above  two  centuries  posterior  to  the  supposed  age  of  Cyrus,  have 
given  accounts  of  him  so  extremely  contradictory,  that  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  reconcile  them.  The  Cyrus  of  Ctesias  and  Hero- 
dotus obtains  possession  of  the  empire  of  the  Medes  by  dethroning 
his  grandfather  Astyages,  and,  like  most  extensive  conquerors,  is 
the  terror  and  scourge  of  the  human  race.  The  Cyrus  of  Xeno- 
phon fights  solely  in  defence  of  his  uncle  Cyaxares,  the  son  of 
Astyages,  and  is  in  every  respect  the  model  of  a  great  and  virtu- 
ous prince.  The  Cyrus  of  Herodotus  is  killed,  fighting  against 
Tomyris,  the  queen  of  the  Massagetae,  who  plunges  his  head  into 
a  basin  of  blood,  in  revenge  of  her  son,  whour  Cyrus  had  put  to 
deatii.  The  Cyrus  of  Ctesias  is  killed  by  a  wound  he  received 
in  Hyrcania;  and  the  Cyrus  of  Xenophon,  after  a  glorious  reign 
of  thirty  years,  dies  a  natural  death.  Uncertain  as  are  the  partic- 
ulars of  the  history  of  the  elder  Cyrus,  it  is  generally  agreed  that 
his  c  jnquests  were  extensive;  that  he  vanquished  the  Babyloni- 
ans, defeated  their  ally,  Croesus,  the  king  of  Lydia,  the  most 
powerful  of  the  contemporary  sovereigns;  subjected  a  great  part 
of  the  lower  Asia,  and  made  himself  master  of  Syria  and  Arabia, 
The  policy  of  such  conquerors,  who  found  it  impossible  to  preserve 
their  conquests,  was  to  ruin  the  countries  which  they  gained  by 
their  arms.  Devastation  was  held  to  be  the  natural  right  of  war. 
Those  princes  had  no  plan  in  their  military  enterprises — chance 
directed  their  course.  Nebuchadnezzar  II.,  whom  we  have  seen 
the  conqueror  of  Jud?ea  and  E'.:ypt,  is  said  to  have  cast  lots  to 
determine  to  which  point  of  the  compass  he  should  direct  his  pro- 
gress: the  lot  fell  towards  Jerusalem;  he  marched  on  accordingly, 
and  subdued  it. 

Cambyses,  the  son  and  successor  of  Cyrus,  had  neither  the 
talents  of  his  father,  nor  his  virtues.  He  |)lanned  a  military  expe- 
dition into  Egypt,  which  was  signalized  only  by  folly  and  extrava- 


iI6  UNIVERSAL    IMSTORV.  [  HOOK     I 

gance.  His  vast  army  speedily  overpowered  this  feeble  people, 
wlio  have  been  successively  subdued  by  every  nation  that  afiarked 
them;  but  the  conqueror  after  all  rea|)ed  nothing  but  dishonor; 
for  his  conduct  was  such  as  to  bear  every  mark  of  insanity.  In 
an  inconsiderate  expedition  against  the  ^Ethiopians,  he  threw  away 
the  greater  part  of  his  army:  —  50,000  men,  sent  into  the  deserts 
of  Amnion,  perished  through  fatigue  and  famine.  With  a  delib- 
erate purpose  of  wantonly  exasperating  the  Egyptians,  who  were 
disposed  to  tlie  most  peaceable  submission,  Cambyses  ordered  the 
magnificent  temple  of  Thebes  to  be  pillaged  and  burnt.  At  the 
celebration  of  the  festival  of  Apis,  at  Memphis,  he  stabbed  the 
sacred  ox  with  his  poniard,  ordered  the  priests  to  be  scourged,  and 
massacred  all  the  jieople  who  assisted  at  the  sacrifice.  He  put  to 
death  his  brother  Smerdis,  because  he  dreamed  that  he  saw  him 
seated  on  the  throne;  and  when  his  wife  and  sister,  Meroe, 
lamented  the  fate  of  her  brother,  he  killed  her  with  a  stroke  of 
his  foot.  To  prove  his  dexterity  in  archery,  he  pierced  the  son 
of  his  favorite  Prexaspes  through  the  heart  with  an  arrow. 

This  madman  was  on  his  return  to  his  dominions  of  Persia, 
when  he  learned  that  the  order  of  the  magi  had  effected  a  danger- 
ous revolution  ;  and  that,  by  their  aid,  one  of  their  own  number 
had  assumed  the  character  of  his  brother  Smerdis,  and  had  been 
elected  king  in  his  absence.  He  hastened  to  punish  this  usurpa- 
tion, but  died  on  his  way,  from  a  wound  of  his  poniard,  which 
struck  him  in  the  groin  while  mounting  his  horse.  The  false 
Smerdis  did  not  long  enjoy  Iiis  dignity.  Two  grandees  of  the 
court,  Darius  the  soq  of  Hystaspes,  and  Otanes,  conspired  to  de- 
throne him,  and  the-  usurper  was  strangled  in  the  imperial  palace. 
Darius  had  influence  enough  to  obtain  the  vacant  throne  of  Persia; 
though  we  cannot  easily  rely  on  the  authority  of  Herodotus,  that 
he  owed  his  election  to  the  neighing  of  his  horse. 

Darius  the  son  of  Hystaspes  was  a  prince  of  talents  and  ambi- 
tion: he  was  the  first  of  the  Persian  monarchs  who  imposed  a 
regular  tax  upon  the  conquered  provinces  of  the  empire,  which 
till  then  had  only  given  occasional  gratuities  to  the  sovereign.  He 
chose,  however,  to  conciliate  the  great  body  of  his  subjects  to  the 
new  government,  by  exempting  the  Persians  from  those  burdens. 
The  Babylonians  were  the  first  of  the  provinces  which  endeavored 
to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  servitude;  but  their  attempt  cost  them 
extremely  dear.  Darius  encircled  Babylon  with  his  army  so  as  to 
cut  off  all  supplies  from  the  adjacent  country.  The  inhabitants 
exerted  a  savage  resolution.  All  who  were  useless  for  the  defence 
of  the  city,  and  served  only  to  consume  its  provisions, — the 
women,  the  old  men,  and  the  children, — were  strangled  by  a 
public  decree;  each  head  of  a  family  being  allowed  to  presen-e 
one  of  his  wives  and  a  maid  servant.  At  length,  after  a  siege  of 
twenty  months,  Darius  won  the  city  by  a  treacherous  stratagem. 
One  of  his  captains,  mutilating  his   visage   with  hideous   wounds. 


CH.  XI.]  THE    PERSIANS.  117 

fled,  as  if  for  safety,  to  the  Babylonians,  and  offered  his  services  to 
avenge  himself  against  Darius,  who  hatl  used  him  thus  inhumanly. 
The  man  was  trusted  by  the  credulous  Babylonians  with  a  high 
command,  of  which  he  availed  himself  to  open  the  gates  to  the 
Persians.  With  aggravated  meanness  and  cruelty  Darius  impaled 
alive  three  thousand  of  the  principal  citizens. 

Ambitious  of  extensive  conquest,  he  now  meditated  a  war  against 
the  Scythians,  on  the  absurd  pretext  that  they  had  ravaged  a  part  of 
Asia  about  130  years  before.  At  the  head  of  an  army  of  700,000 
men,  he  set  out  from  Susa,  his  capital,  to  wage  war  against  a  nation 
whom  it  was  impossible  to  conquer.  Detached  and  wandering 
tribes,  who  have  scarcely  attained  an  idea  of  fixed  possessions, 
migrate  with  ease  iind  celerity  from  one  extremity  of  a  country  to 
the  other,  and  are  not  to  be  subdued  :  while,  in  the  mean  time,  the 
in\ading  army,  even  though  unopposed,  is  consumed  of  itself  by 
famine  and  fatigue.  The  sole  business  of  the  Scythians  was  to 
retreat,  driving  their  cattle  before  them,  and  filling  up  the  wells 
in  their  route.  The  Persians,  after  long  and  excessive  marches, 
never  got  more  than  a  distant  sight  of  the  enemy,  wftile  they  were 
perishing  by  thousands  in  a  rugged  and  barren  country.  At  length 
Darius  thought  it  his  wisest  measure  to  retreat,  having  lost  the 
greatest  part  of  his  army,  and  leaving  behind  him  the  sick  and  aged 
at  tiic  mercy  of  the  barbarians. 

The  character  of  this  prince  was  daring,  active,  and  enterprising. 
The  disastrous  event  of  the  Scythian  war  served  only  to  stimulate 
him  to  greater  and  more  glorious  attempts.  He  now  projected 
the  conquest  of  India.  The  particulars  of  that  enterprise  are  not 
preserved  in  history:  but  we  know  that  it  was  successfully  accom- 
plished. India  was  made  the  twentieth  province  of  the  Peisian 
empire.  In  the  course  of  this  war,  Darius  equipped  a  (leet  iq)on 
the  Indus,  under  the  command  of  Scylax,  a  Greek  of  Caria,  with 
orders  to  sail  down  the  river  and  explore  the  countries  on  either 
side  till  he  arrived  at  the  ocean.  Scylax  obeyed  his  instructions, 
and  performed,  in  the  course  of  his  voyage,  a  navigation  j)erhaps 
the  longest  that  at  this  time  had  been  attempted  by  any  nation 
From  the  mouth  of  the  Indus,  he  sailed  ihrougli  the  J\Iare  Ery- 
thrccum,*  coasting,  as  we  n)ust  presume,  by  the  mouth  of  the 
Persian  Gulf;  and  entering  the  Red  Sea  by  the  Sinus  Avalates, 
now  tlie  Straits  of  Babehiiandel,  he  disembarked  in  Egypt  after  a 
voyage  of  above  1100  leagues. 

The  outlines  of  the  Persian  monarchy  thus  shortly  traced  ull 


*  Tlio  ^ftlre.  Erythraum  is  not  lo  bo  confounded  with  tlip  Rod  Sea.  The  Intter 
IS  the  SiiiHS  .iraliicus  :  the  fi)riiier  is  that  [)nrt  of  the  Indian  Ocean  which  extends 
petween  the  Slrnits  of  RabelpAaiide!  :md  the  continent  of  India.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  so  named  from  a  king  called  Krythras. 


118  UNivEHSAL  HisTony.  [book  I 

the  period  of  llic  war  with  Greece — the  governnienl,  laws,  manners, 
and  cusloiUd  oi  ihis  great  Asiatic  cinj)ire  deujund  our  allentioii,  as 
an  interesting  and  curious  subject  of  inquiry. 

The  government  of  Persia,  from  the  earliest  accounts  we  have 
of  that  nation,  was  an  hereditary  monarchy.  Their  princes  were 
absolute  in  the  most  unlimited  sense  of  the  expression.  Their 
persons  were  revered  as  sacred,  and  they  were  never  approached 
by  their  subjects  without  the  gestures  of  adoration.  Their  word, 
their  look  conferred  life  or  death;  and  the  displeasure  of  Tlit 
Great  King  was  equally  dreaded  with  the  wrath  of  the  divinity. 
In  the  latter  and  splendid  periods  of  their  dominion,  the  pomp  and 
magnificence  of  these  monarchs,  with  their  necessary  concomitants, 
voluptuousness  and  debauchery,  have  been  amply  described  by 
ancient  authors.  The  revenues  of  whole  provinces,  according:  to 
Herodotus,  were  bestowed  on  the  attire  of  their  favorite  concu- 
bines; and  the  provinces  themselves  took  from  that  circumstance 
their  popular  appellations.  Plato,  in  his  Alcibiades,  mentions  a 
Greek  ambassador  who  travelled  a  whole  day  through  a  country 
called  the  Queen's  Girdle,  and  another  in  crossing  a  province 
which  went  by  the  name  of  the  Queen's  Head  Dress.  The  regai 
throne  was  of  pure  gold,  overshadowed  by  a  palm-tree  and  vine  of 
the  same  metal,  with  clusters  of  fruit  composed  of  jjrecious  stones. 

Yet  amidst  this  wantonness  of  Asiatic  magnificence,  the  care 
which  those  princes  bestowed  on  the  education  of  their  children 
merited  the  highest  praise.  They  were,  almost  as  soon  as  born, 
removed  from  the  palace,  and  committed  to  the  char-e  of  eunuchs 
of  approved  fidelity  and  discretion.  At  seven  years  of  age  they 
learned  the  exercise  of  riding,  and  went  daily  to  the  chase,  to 
inure  them  betimes  to  fatigue  and  intrepidity.  At  the  age  of  four- 
teen they  were  put  under  the  care  of  four  preceptors  eminently 
distinguished  by  their  wisdom  and  abilities.  The  first  opened  to 
them  the  doctrines  of  the  magi;  the  second  impressed  them  with 
a  veneration  for  truth;  the  third  exercised  them  in  the  habits  of 
fortitude  and  magnanimity  ;  and  the  fourth  inculcated  the  most 
difficult  of  all  lessons,  especially  to  the  gieat,  the  perfect  command 
and  government  of  their  passions. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  Persians  in  general,  above  every 
other  nation,  were  noted  for  their  extreme  attention  to  the  educa- 
tion of  youth.  Before  the  age  of  five,  the  children  were  exclu- 
sively under  the  tuition  of  the  mother  and  assistant  females.  After 
that  age,  they  were  committed  to  the  charge  of  the  magi,  an 
order  of  men  whose  proper  function  was  that  of  priests  or  ministers 
of  the  national  religion,  but  who  spent  their  lives  in  the  pursuit 
of  wisdom,  and  die  practice  of  the  strictest  morality.  By  their 
precepts  and  their  example,  the  Persian  youth  were  early  trained 
to  virtue  and  good  morals.  They  were  taught  the  most  sacred 
regard  to  truth,  the  highest  veneration  for  their  parents  and 
superiors,  the  most  perfect  submission  to  the  laws  of  their  couu 


CH.    XI.]  THE    PERSIANS.  119 

try,  and  respect  for  its  magistrates.  Nor  was  the  culture  of  the 
body  neglected.  The  youth  were  trained  to  every  manly  exer- 
cise ;  a  preparative  to  their  admission  into  the  body  of  the  king's 
guards,  in  which  they  were  enrolled  at  the  age  of  seventeen. 
The  general  system  of  education  among  the  Persians  is  thus  la- 
conically described  by  Herodotus.  "From  the  age  of  five  to  that 
of  twenty,  they  teach  their  children  llu-ee  things  alone — to  man- 
age a  horse,  to  use  the  bow  with  dexterity,  and  to  speak  truth." 
From  these  accounts  of  ancient  authors,  we  might  be  led  to  con- 
clude, that  a  system  of  education  thus  public,  left  very  little  to  be 
done  on  the  part  of  the  parents  ;  yet  we  find  in  the  Zendnvesta 
this  admirable  precept  to  fathers:  "  If  you  desire  to  enjoy  para- 
disc,  instruct  your  children  in  wisdom  and  virtue  ;  since  all  thei 
good  deeds  will  be  imputed  to  you." 

The  luxury  of  the  Persians,  which  has  become  proverbial,  mus 
not  mislead  us  in  our  ideas  of  their  character  in  the  early  ages  of 
that  monarchy.  In  reality,  before  tlie  time  of  Cyrus,  the  Per- 
sians were  a  rude  and  barbarous  people,  inhabiting  a  poor  and  nar- 
row country  of  rocks  and  deserts.  We  have  the  concurring  testi- 
mony of  all  the  ancient  authors  who  have  written  concerning 
them,  that  they  were,  in  those  early  periods,  a  people  remarkable 
for  their  temperance,  and  the  virtuous  simplicity  of  their  manners. 
Herodotus  records  an  excellent  speech  of  one  Sandanis,  a  Lydian, 
who,  when  his  sovereign  Croesus  projected  the  invasion  of  Persia, 
thus  strongly  pointed  out  to  him  the  folly  of  his  enterprise  : 
"What  will  you  gain,"  said  he,  "by  vvaging  war  with  such  men 
as  the  Persians.'  Their  clothing  is  skins,  their  food  wild  fruits,  and 
their  drink  water.  If  you  are  conquered,  you  lose  a  cultivated 
country  ;  if  you  conquer  them,  what  can  you  take  from  them  .'' — a 
barren  region.  For  my  part,  I  thank  the  gods,  that  the  Persians 
have  not  yet  formed  the  design  of  invading  the  Lydians." 

The  use  of  gold  and  silver  for  money  was  unknown  to  the 
Persians  till  the  reign  of  Darius,  the  son  of  Cyaxares,  or,  as  he  is 
called  in  Scripture,  Darius  the  .Alcde.  The  reign  of  this  prince 
was,  indeed,  the  era  of  their  change  of  manners.  The  Medes, 
conquered  by  the  Persians,  became  the  models  of  their  manners, 
as  we  shall  see  did  the  Greeks  to  the  Romans.  The  ancient  Per- 
sians were  a  warlike  and  a  hardy  race  of  men.  They  were 
all  trained  to  the  use  of  arms  ;  and  in  time  of  war,  every  male, 
unless  disabled  by  age  or  l)odily  infirmity,  was  obliged,  on  pain  of 
death,  to  attend  the  monarch  in  the  field.  Hence  those  immense 
armies  whose  numbers  almost  exceed  belief,  and  which  were,  of 
necessity,  disorderly  and  unmanageable,  as  they  never  could  act 
with  the  uniform  operation  of  a  well-organized  body.  While  on 
service  they  wore  complete  armor,  composed  of  loose  ()lates  of 
metal,  fasliioned  in  the  form  of  (he  scales  of  fishes,  which  covered 
the  whole  body,  arms,  legs,  thighs  and  feet.  Their  weapoii^;  were 
&  bow  of  uncommon  length,  a  quiver  of  arrows,  a  short  sword, 


120  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOKY.  [bOOK   I 

called  acinacis,  ynd  a  shield  i«ud(,'  of  wicker.  Tlicir  horses  were 
covered  with  the  same  scaly  armor  ;  and  ihey  employed  war-char- 
iois  with  scythes  fixed  ai  tiie  extrernily  of  the  axles.'  They  re- 
ceived no  other  pay  than  a  share  of  the  conquered  spoil.  In  their 
military  expeditions,  the  wives  and  children,  with  a  large  retinue 
of  male  and  female  slaves,  followed  the  camp  ;  an  usage  which 
we  arc  apt  to  attribute  to  luxury  and  efleminacy,  when  we  ought 
rather,  perhaps,  to  account  it  a  remnant  of  barbarous  manners. 
In  fight,  the  ancient  Persians  displayed  great  personal  courage 
They  esteemed  it  dishonorable  to  employ  any  suatagems  in  war  ; 
and  never  fought  in  the  night,  unless  when  attacked  by  the  eneniy. 

We  find  in  the  government  of  the  ancient  Persians,  though 
extremely  despotical,  some  particular  institutions  of  uncommon 
excellency.  The  kingdom  was  divided  into  districts  or  separate 
provinces,  over  each  of  which  presided  a  governor  or  satrap^  who 
received  his  instructions  immediately  from  the  prince,  and  was 
obliged,  at  stated  times,  to  give  an  account  of  his  administration. 
To  facilitate  this  intercourse  between  the  provinces  and  the  cap- 
ital, the  establishment  of  regular  couriers  or  posts,  a  piece  of  pol- 
icy of  no  ancient  date  in  tiie  kingdoms  of  Europe,  was  known  in 
Persia  at  the  time  of  Cyrus.  The  sovereign  likewise  appointed 
his  commissioners  to  perform  periodical  circuits  through  the  em- 
pire, and  report  to  him  every  particular  relative  to  the  government 
of  the  satraps  ;  and  he  frequently  visited  in  person  even  the  most 
distant  provinces. 

The  encouragement  of  agriculture,  the  spring  of  population, 
and  therefore  one  of  the  most  important  objects  of  attention  in  all 
governments  where  there  is  an  extent  of  territory,  was  peculiarly 
the  care  of  the  monarchs  of  Persia.  To  cultivate  the  earth 
was  one  of  the  precepts  of  their  sacred  books  ;  and  the  industry 
of  the  people,  thus  recommended  by  the  sanction  of  a  religious 
duty,  was  encouraged  by  the  sovereign  with  suitable  rewards,  and 
remissness  punished  by  a  proportional  increase  of  taxes.  ^V  e  are 
informed  that,  on  one  particular  day  in  the  year,  the  king  partook 
in  person  of  the  feast  of  the  husbandmen. 

There  were,  under  the  Persian  government,  some  regulations 
regarding  the  administration  of  justice,  which  are  highly  deserving 
of  encomium.  The  rigor  of  penal  laws  often  defeats  its  own 
purpose,  for  if  the  punishment  exceeds  its  just  measure,  and  the 
criminal  becomes  an  object  of  pity,  the  influence  of  punishment  as 
an  examj)le  is  in  a  great  measure  defeated  ;  and  ofTences,  instead 
of  being  strictly  coerced,  will  often  be  .screened  from  the  too  se- 
vere vengeance  of  the  law.  In  Persia,  a  first  offence  was  never 
capitally  punished.  That  vengeance  was  reserved  only  for 
the  hardened  and  incorrigible  criminal.  In  all  cases  the  accused 
person  was  brought  face  to  face  with  his  accuser,  who,  if  he  failed 
to  make  good  his  charge,  was  himself  condemned  to  the  punish- 
noent  wliich  the  accused  aiust  have  umlergone  had    the  crime  been 


ClI.    XI.  1  THE     FEUSIANS.  IJl 

proved  against  him.  The  sovereign,  in  certain  causes  of  im[)or 
lance,  sat  himself  in  judgment;  tliougli  in  the  ordinary  administra- 
tion of  justice,  there  were  a  certain  number  of  judges  cliosen,  on 
account  of  their  acknowledged  wisdom  an-d  probity,  who  made 
regular  circuits  through  the  provinces,  and  attended  the  sovereign 
in  his  stated  visitations  of  his  dominions.  These  held  their  offices 
for  life;  but  were  removable  in  cases  of  malversation.  The  story 
is  well  known  of  the  judge,  w'ho,  being  guilty  of  corruption  in  his 
high  function,  was  by  Cambyses  condemned  to  be  flayed  alive, 
and  his  skin  hung  over  the  seat  of  judgment. 

There  are  few  topics  of  antiquarian  research  which  have  been 
explored  with  more  anxiety  of  investigation  than  the  religion  of 
the  ancient  Persians.  The  mind  is  naturally  stimulated  to  incjuire 
into  a  system  of  theology,  which  is  not  less  remarkable  for  the 
purity  of  its  moral  precepts  than  for  its  extreme  antiquity;  as  we 
have  undoubted  evidence  that  the  same  doctrines  and  worship 
which  exist  among  a  particular  sect  of  the  Persians  at  this  day 
were  the  religion  of  this  ancient  people  some  thousand  years  ago. 

The  founder  of  this  ancient  religion  is  generally  supj}osed  to 
have  been  Zoroaster,  as  he  is  called  by  the  Greeks,  or  Zerdusht,  as 
he  is  denominated  by  the  Persians;  but  the  history  of  this  person- 
age is  involved  in  much  uncertainty.  By  some  authors  he  is  said 
to  have  lived  before  the  time  of  Moses  (a.  c.  1571;)  by  others 
to  have  been  contemporary  with  Ninus  and  Semiramis  (a.  c. 
1216;)  and  by  others  again  his  era  is  placed  as  late  as  the  acces- 
sion of  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  to  the  throne  of  Persia  (a.  c. 
522.)  These  discordances  have  induced  a  supposition,  that  there 
were  two  remarkable  persons  of  the  name  of  Zoroaster;  and  this, 
which  is  the  opinion  of  the  elder  Pliny,  has  been  lately  supported 
with  many  probable  reasons  by  the  Abbe  Foucher.  According 
to  his  notion,  the  elder  Zoroaster  was  regarded  by  the  Persians  as 
the  founder  of  their  religion;  while  the  younger  of  that  nanie 
was  only  a  zealous  reformer  of  that  ancient  worship  from  the  many 
superstitions  with  which,  in  course  of  time,  it  had  become  corrupt- 
ed. To  the  first  Zoroaster  is  attributed  the  composition  of  the 
Zcndavesta,  a  collection  of  books  which  he  pretended,  like  the 
Roman  Numa,  to  iiave  received  from  heaven.  These  books  he 
presented  to  his  sovereign  Gustashp,  the  king  of  Bactriana;  and 
confirmed  their  authority,  and  his  own  divine  mission,  by  jicrform-- 
ing,  as  is  said,  some  very  extraordinary  miracles.  Gustashj)  be 
came  a  convert,  and  abjured,  along  with  the  greater  part  of  his 
subjects,  the  worship  of  the  stars,  represented  by  several  idols, 
which  was  then  the  prevalent  religion  of  those  countries,  and  was 
termed  Sahaiam.  Gustashp  became  so  zealous  a  proselyte  to  the 
new  faith,  tliat  he  refused  to  jiay  an  annual  tribute  to  a  prince  of 
Scythia,  unless  on  the  condition  that  he  likewise  should  renounce 
h:3  idolatry;  a  request  which  the  Scythian  deemed  so  insolent, 
t'\at  he  invaded  Bactriana  with  an  immense  army,  sacked  the  citv 
\ou.   I  10 


12J  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [litJOK  t 

of  Balk,  flcslroyed  the  Pyreiim,  or  Fiic-Templc,  in  wliifli  Zo- 
roaster ofliciated,  and  put  him  to  death,  togtiher  with  eighty  of 
the  magi,*  whose  blood,  as  is  reported,  drowned  out  tne  sacred 
fire.  But  Gusiashp  had  his  revenge  ;  for,  collecling  all  his  forces, 
he  attacked  and  routed  the  Scythians  with  immense  slaughter,  re- 
gained his  kingdom,  and  re-esiablishing  the  Pyrcum  of  Zoroaster, 
put  his  religion  upon  a  settled  foundation. 

The  second  Zoroaster  apj)cars  wiih  less  splendor.  He  pre- 
tends to  no  other  character  than  that  of  a  zealous  reformer,  con- 
cerned for  the  ancient  purity  of  his  religion,  which,  in  the  course 
of  many  ages  from  the  time  of  its  founder,  had  become  considera- 
bly corrupted.  The  whole  order  of  the  magi  had,  in  the  time  of 
Cambyses,  fallen  into  disrepute.  We  have  seen  how,  from  a  verv 
dishonorable  imposition  in  substituting  one  of  their  own  number 
for  Snierdis,  the  brother  of  Cambyses,  whom  that  madman  had 
put  to  death,  they  had  incurred  the  odium  of  the  whole  nation. 
This  event  is  said  to  have  thrown  a  stain  upon  the  religion  of  the 
Zendavesta,  which  was  not  wiped  ofF  till  a  reformation  was  oper- 
ated by  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspes.  This  prince  was  zealously 
attached  to  the  ancient  religion  of  Zoroaster ;  but  knowing  the 
unpopularity  of  the  race  of  magi  then  existing,  he  abolished  them 
entirely,  and  created  a  new  order,  at  the  head  of  which  was  the 
second  Zerduslit  or  Zoroaster.  He  is  believed  to  have  been 
originally  a  Jew,  or  at  least  a  person  educated  in  Judea  ;  whence 
he  has  grafted  on  the  religion  of  the  Persians  a  great  deal  of  the 
doctrines  of  the  Old  Testament,  both  regarding  the  creation  of 
the  world,  and  the  precepts  of  religion. 

The  Zendavesta,  therefore,  in  the  form  in  which  it  now  appears, 
must  be  considered  as  a  work  of  which  the  basis  claims  a  most 
remote  antiquity ;  while  even  what  addition  or  improvement  it 
received  from  the  younger  Zoroaster  is  of  a  date  so  ancient  as  500 
years  before  the  birth  of  Christ. 

This  code  of  the  ancient  religion  of  the  Persians,  so  remarkable 
for  its  antiquity,  was,  till  lately,  unknown,  unless  from  some 
abstracts  of  its  doctrines  made  by  a  few  learned  men  who  were 


*  The  ma^i  among  tlie  Persians  were  a  class  of  men,  who.  like  an  established 
order  of  priesthood,  exercised  all  the  public  function."  of  religion,  and  passed 
Iheir  time  e.xchisivfly  in  those  sacred  duties,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  philoso- 
phy. Whether  they  were  originally  instituted  bv  Zoroaster,  as  the  priests  of 
his  religion,  or  subsisted  before  his  time,  while  J^abaism  was  the  religion  of  the 
Persians,  is  un<'ertain.  They  were  not  elected  from  the  body  of  ih"  people, 
but  formed  a  distinct  class  or  r.ice  of  men, — the  children  of  the  mairi  succeed- 
ing to  the  function  of  their  fathers;  and  being  debarred  from  intermarrying 
with  the  people,  these  children  are  said  to  have  been  frequentlj'  the  fruit  of 
incestuous  intercourse. —  Brur.keri  Inst.  Hist  Phil.  p.  40.  They  held  a  great 
many  mysterious  and  abstruse  doctrines,  which  they  communicated  only  to  the 
discijiles  of  their  own  order;  but  made  it  likewise  their  employment  to  educate 
ihe  youth  of  superior  rank,  and  particularly  the  princes  of  royal  descent,  and 
lo  -nstruct  them  in  morality  and  useful  knowledge. 


CH.  XI.]  THE    PERSIANS,  123 

conversant  in  oriental  literature.  But  it  has  been  lately  translated 
by  a  Frenchman,  M.  Anquetil  tie  Perron,  whose  enthusiasm 
prompted  him  to  undertake  a  journey  to  Persia,  in  order  to  explore 
every  trace  of  that  ancient  religion.  This  translation  has  not 
contributed  to  raise  the  reputation  of  the  Zendavesta.  We  find 
in  it  some  excellent  moral  precepts,  and  a  few  sublime  truths  acci- 
dentally breaking  out  amictst  a  mass  of  absolute  nonsense  and 
incoherent  raving.  Those,  however,  who,  with  a  strong  prejudice 
in  its  favor,  have  endeavored  to  make  a  critical  analysis  of  the 
work,  and  to  methodize  its  opinion  and  doctrines,  pretend  to  find 
in  it  not  only  a  philosophical  account  of  the  origin  of  the  world,  but 
J)o  purest  principles  of  religion  and  morality,  together  with  a  code 
of  laws  for  the  regulation  of  civil  society. 

The  cosmogony  of  the  Zendavesta,  according  to  the  account  of 
these  expositors,  sui)poses  the  first  principle  of  all  things  to  be 
time  without  bounds,  or  eternity.  From  this  first  principle  pro- 
ceed (but  in  what  manner  is  not  explained)  the  first  light,  the 
first  water,  and  the  original  fire.  From  this  first  principle  likewise 
sprung  Ormusd  and  Akriman,  secondary  principles,  but  active  and 
creative  of  all  things;  Ormusd,  a  being  infinitely  good,  and  Ahriman, 
a  being  infinitely  wiftJced.  The  duration  of  this  world  is  limited 
to  12,000  years;  a  space  of  time  which  is  equally  divided  between 
Ormusd  and  Ahriman,  who  maintain  a  constant  war  for  the  sove- 
reignty of  created  nature,  and  alternately  prevail  during  the  j)eriod 
of  tlie  duration  of  the  universe  ;  but  the  contest  is  to  be  finally 
terminated  by  the  triumph  of  Ormusd  over  xVhrinian  ;  good  must 
subdue  evil. 

In  the  meantime,  for  maintaining  their  warfare,  Ormusd  creates 
an  immense  number  of  good  genii,  and  his  oj)ponent  an  equal 
number  of  evil  ones.  Ormusd  then  proceeds  to  the  creation  of  a 
perfect  world  ;  but  is  continually  thwarted  in  his  purpose,  and  has 
his  works  contaminated,  by  the  malignant  interference  of  his  adver- 
sary. Ormusd  creates  a  bull,  out  of  the  body  of  which  spring  first 
all  the  different  kinds  of  plants,  and  then  all  the  various  species 
of  animals  ;  man  among  the  rest.  But  in  this  formation  of  the 
bull,  Ahriman  has  likewise  a  joint  operation  ;  so  that  man,  intend- 
ed to  be  formed  pure,  uncorrupted,  and  immortal,  has  within  him 
the  seeds  of  impurity,  corruption,  and  death.  lie  deviates,  of 
course,  from  the  path  of  rectitude,  and  falls  from  his  pristine  nino- 
cence.  His  first  ofience  is  the  neglect  to  pay  a  proper  veneration 
to  Ormusd  under  the  symbol  of  water;  a  crime  which  entails  sin 
and  mortality  against  all  the  descendants  of  the  aggressor,  and 
gives  a  great  triumph  to  Ahriman  and  his  evil  genii. 

These  contentions  between  the  good  and  the  evil  principle  are 
supposed  to  endure  till  the  accomplishment  of  Time.  Man  be- 
comes subject  to  death  in  consequence  of  his  sins  ;  but  when  the 
period  arrives,  that  the  whole  inhabitants  of  the  earth  shall  be 
converted  to  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  then  shall  be  the  resurrec- 


1'24  CMVKRSAL  IIISTORV.  ^BOOK   I 

tioii  of  llio  dead  willi  tlicir  eaithly  bodies  and  souls.  The  jual 
shall  be  sei)aratcd  from  the  uiijiisl  ;  the  former  to  be  translated  to 
Paradise,  where  they  shall  enjoy  the  hif^hest  pleasnres,  both  of 
soul  and  body  ;  the  latter  to  be  purified  for  an  appointed  spare  in 
bih-ning  nietals,  and  cleansed  from  all  their  ofiences  ;  after  which, 
all  created  beings  shall  enjoy  the  most  perfect  hapj)iness  for  ever. 
Aliriinan  and  his  evil  genii  shall  midtrgo  the  same  purification  ; 
and  after  his  limited  punishment,  even  he  shall  partake  of  the  joys 
of  eternity,  rejjcat  the  Zendavesla,  and  join  with  all  beings  in  the 
j)raises  of  Orniusd. 

This  doctrine  of  the  two  separate  and  eternal  principles,  a  gooa 
and  an  evil,  has  had  its  advocates  among  many  other  religious  sects 
besides  the  ancient  Persians.  It  seems  to  be  a  natural  effort  of 
unenlightened  reason  to  afford  a  solution  of  that  great  piohlem, 
the  origin  of  evil.  It  was  revived  in  the  third  century  of  the 
Chrstian  era  by  a  sect  of  heretics  termed  Manichees,*  whose 
doctrine  the  skeptical  Bayle  has  defended  with  much  dangerous 
sophistry.  But  his  ai'guments,  and  all  others  that  are  applicable 
to  this  controversy,  tend  to  nothing  else  than  to  convince  us  of 
the  imperfection  of  human  reason,  and  the  vain  folly  of  man's 
pretences  to  subject  to  his  limited  understanding  die  schemes  of 
Providence,  or  reconcile  in  every  instance  those  anomalies  which 
appear  in  the  structure  both  of  the  physical  and  moral  world. 

Such  is  the  system  of  cosmogony  contained  in  these  books  of 
the  Zendavesta,  upon  which  the  whole  religion  of  the  ancient 
Parsi  was  founded.  The  practical  part  of  this  religion,  consisted, 
first,  in  acknowledging  and  adoring  Ormusd,  the  principle  of  all 
good,  by  a  strict  observance  of  purity  in  thought,  words,  and 
actions  :  secondly,  in  showing  a  proportional  detestation  of  Aliri- 
inan, his  productions,  and  his  works.  The  most  acceptable  service 
to  Ormusd  was  observing  the  precepts  of  the  Zendavesta,  reading 
that  work,  and  repeating  its  liturgies.  The  chief  among  its  forms 
of  prayer  are  addressed  not  directly  to  Ormusd,  but  through  the 
medium    of  his    greatest    works,  the    sun,  the    moon,  and    <tars. 


*  Tills  sect  arose  about  a.  d.  277,  and  took  its  origin  from  one  of  the  Persian 
Magi,  named  Manes.  He  professed  to  believe  in  Christianity,  and  in  the  prin- 
cipal (ioclrines  of  tiie  IS'ew  Testament ;  rejectintr  altoarelher  the  Old  Testament, 
wliicii  he  maintained  was  one  of  the  delusions  which  had  spruntr  from  Ahriman, 
or  the  evil  principle,  for  tlie  purpose  of  keeping  mankind  in  darkness,  ignorance 
and  vice.  For  that  reason,  it  was.  as  he  maintained,  that  in  the  course  of  the 
contest    which   always  subsists   between  the   rrnad   and   the    eril  priiiriplrs  —  the 

food  principle,  under  the  person  of  Mithras  or  Christ,  had  abrocrated  tiie  Old 
'estainent,  arid  revealed  his  perfect  religion  and  worship  in  the  iNew.  Yet 
thounrh  the  Manichces  professed  to  receive  the  New  Testament,  they  adopted 
in  reality  only  what  suited  their  own  opinions.  They  formed  a  peculiar 
scheme  of  Clirislianitv,  which  was  minjled  with  many  of  the  doctrines  of  the 
Magi;  and  whatever  pnrts  of  the  New  Testament  they  found  to  be  inconsistent 
Willi  their  scheiin-.  tiiey  boldiv  affirmed  to  be  corruptions  and  interpolations. 
This  sect  of  the  Manirliees  subsistt'd  for  many  centuries,  and  even  some  of  the 
earlier  fathers  of  the  Clu-islian  church  were  coiilaininaled  willi  its  errors. 


CII.    XI. j  THE    rr.RSIA.VS.  I2.'l 

Mithras  the  sun,  of  all  the  productions  of  Orniiisd,  is  supposed  to 
be  the  most  powerful  antagonist  of  Ahriman.  After  these  celestial 
objects,  the  terrestrial  elements  have  the  next  claim  to  worship  and 
veneration.  Of  these,  the  noblest  is  the  fire,  the  symbol  of  the 
sun,  and  of  the  original  heat  which  pervades  all  nature.  The 
fire  was  therefore  reckoned  the  purest  material  symbol  of  the 
divinity.  The  other  elements  of  air,  earth,  and  water,  had  each 
a  subordinate  respect  paid  to  them  ;  and  it  was  an  object  of  the  most 
zealous  care  of  the  ancient  Parsi,  to  keep  them  pure  and  uncor- 
rupfed.  But  this  worship  of  the  fire  and  the  other  elements  was 
always  inferior  and  subordinate  to  the  adoration  of  Ormusd,  with 
whose  praises  all  their  religious  ceremonies  began  and  ended. 

But  the  object  of  these  books  of  the  Zendavesta  was  not  only 
to  reveal  the  divinity,  and  the  knowledge  of  his  works,  and  that 
peculiar  worship  which  was  most  acceptable  to  him :  they  con- 
tained likewise  a  system  of  moral  duties,  and  of  civil  regula- 
tions. These  moral  precepts  and  regulations  are  better  known 
from  the  Sadder^  a  compilation  made  about  three  centuries  ago 
by  the  modern  Parsi,  or  Guebres,  in  which  a  great  many  of  the 
absurdities  contained  in  the  Zendavesta  are  rejected  or  omitted. 

From  the  Sadder,  according  to  the  analysis  of  it  by  M.  Fou- 
cher,  it  appears  that  the  princii)le  of  the  morality  of  the  Parsi  was 
a  sort  of  Epicurism.  The  indulgence  of  the  passions  was  recom- 
mended, in  so  far  as  it  is  consistent  with  the  welfare  of  society  ; 
and  reprobated  only  when  destructive  or  subversive  of  it.  There 
.s  no  merit  annexed  to  abstinence  or  mortification  ;  these  extremes 
are  equally  reprobated  with  intemperance  and  debauciiery.  Adul- 
tery was  held  criminal,  and  so  was  celibacy  or  virginity.  Murder, 
theft,  violence,  and  injustice  were  crimes  highly  offensive  to  God,  be- 
cause destructive  to  the  happiness  of  man.  To  cultivate  an  untilled 
field,  to  plant  fruit-trees,  to  destroy  noxious  animals,  to  bring 
water  to  a  dry  and  barren  land,  were  all  actions  beneficial  to  man- 
kind, and  therefore  most  agreeable  to  the  divinity,  who  wills  per- 
petually the  highest  happiness  of  bis  creatures. 

In  a  word,  this  religion  of  Zoroaster,  delivered  in  the  books  of 
the  Zendavesta,  and  abridged  in  the  Sadder,  which  is  still  the  code 
of  belief  and  of  worship  among  the  Guebres,  a  sect  of  the  modern 
Persians,  appears  to  contain,  along  with  a  very  erroneous  system 
of  theology,  and  amidst  a  mass  of  unfathomable  incongruities  and 
absurdities,  some  very  striking  truihs,  and  many  precepts  of  moral 
ity  and  practical  rules  of  conduct  which  would  do  honor  to  the 
ijost  enlightened  Christians. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  give  some  idea  of  the  genius  and 
character  of  the  ancient  Persians,  who  were  a  people  remaricable 
for  a  temperance  and  simplicity  of  manners,  very  did'erent  from 
the  character  they  assumed  after  they  had  become  a  great  and 
conquering  nation.     No    people  was  ever   more    prone    to  adoj)t 


l2G  UNIVERSAL   HISTORY  [nooK  1. 

foreign  customs  or  foreign  manners.  Tlicy  no  sooner  snlKliicd  ilie 
Medes  than  tliey  assumed  their  dress  ;  after  conquering  Egypt, 
they  used  the  Egyptian  armor  ;  and  after  becoming  acquainted 
with  the  Greeks,  they  imitated  tiiem,  as  Herodotus  informs  us,  in 
the  worst  of  their  vices.  But  that  they  were  originally  a  veiy 
diirerent  people,  all  ancient  authors  bear  concurring  testimony. 

At  the  time  when  they  engaged  in  the  war  with  Greece,  liieir 
national  character  had  undergone  an  entire  change.  Thoy  were 
a  ])eople  corrupted  by  luxury  :  their  armies,  immense  in  their 
numbers,  were  a  disorderly  assemblage  of  all  the  tributary  nations 
they  had  subdued  ;  Medes,  Assyrians,  Babylonians,  Egyj^tians, 
mingled  with  the  native  Persians  ;  a  discordant  mass,  of  which  the 
component  parts  had  no  tie  of  affection  which  bound  them  to  a 
common  interest. 

Athens  at  this  time  had  asserted  her  liberty  by  the  expulsion  of 
the  Pisistratidic,  and  was  disposed  to  put  a  high  value  on  her  newly 
purchased  freedom.  The  power  and  strength  of  the  republic 
were  at  this  time  very  considerable.  Luxury  had  not  yet  spread 
her  contagion  on  the  public  manners  ;  and  the  patriotic  flame  was 
fervent  in  all  ranks  of  the  people.  Even  the  slaves,  who,  as  we 
before  remarked,  formed  the  chief  mass  of  the  population  of  the 
state,  were  an  active  and  serviceable  body  of  men  ;  for  being  ever 
treated  with  humanity  by  the  free  citizens,  they  felt  an  equal  regard 
for  the  common  interest,  and  on  every  occasion  of  war  armed 
with  the  spirit  of  citizens  for  the  defence  of  their  country.  The 
Lacedaemonians  had  the  same  love  of  liberty,  the  same  ardor  of 
patriotism,  and  were  yet  more  accustomed  to  warfare  than  the 
Athenians.  In  the  contest  with  Persia,  the  spirit  of  the  Greeks 
was  raised  to  its  utmost  pitch  ;  and  it  is  in  fact  from  this  era  that 
the  Greeks,  as  an  united  people,  begin  to  occupy  the  chief  place 
in  tne  history  of  the  nations  of  antiquity. 


BOOK    THE    SECOND 


CHAPTER  I. 


History  OF  Greece,  continued — Orirrln  and  cause  of  the  War  tvjth  Iiirsia 

— Commencement  of  hostilities — Battle  of  Marathon — Miltiades  — Arisvides 
— Themistocles — Invasion  of  Greece  by  Xerxes — Banishment  of  Aristides — 
Thermopyla? — Salamis — Platcea  and  Mycalc'— Disunion  of  the  Greeks — Cimon 
— Pericles — Decline  of  the  patriotic  spirit. 

Having  in  the  last  chapter  given  a  short  retrospective  view  of  the 
origin  of  the  Persian  monarchy,  and  the  outlines  of  its  history 
down  to  the  period  of  the  war  with  Greece — together  with  a  brief 
account  of  the  government,  manners,  laws,  and  religion  of  the 
ancient  Persians; — we  now  proceed  to  carry  on  the  detail  of  the 
Cxrecian  history,  by  shortly  tracing  the  progress  and  issue  of  that 
important  war,  which  may  be  said  to  have  owed  its  origin  to  the 
ambition  of  Darius  the  son  of  Hystaspes,  heightened  by  the  passion 
of  revenge.  The  lonians,  a  people  of  the  lesser  Asia,  originally  a 
Greek  colony,  had,  with  the  other  colonies  of  ,^olia  and  Caria, 
been  subdued  by  Croesus,  and  annexed  to  his  dominions  of  Lydia. 
On  the  conquest  of  Lydia  by  Cyrus,  these  provinces  of  course 
became  a  part  of  the  great  empire  of  Persia.  They  were  impa- 
tient, however,  of  this  state  of  subjection,  and  eagerly  sought  to 
regain  their  former  freedom.  For  this  purpose,  they  sought  the 
aid  of  their  ancient  countrymen  of  Greece,  applying  first  to  Lace- 
dcemon,  then  considered  as  the  predominant  power;  but,  bcii.j 
unsuccessful  in  that  quarter,  they  made  the  same  demand,  with 
better  success,  on  Athens  and  the  islands  of  the  i^gcan  Sea. 
Athens  and  the  islands  equipped  and  furnished  the  lonians  with 
twenty-five  ships  of  war,  which  immediately  began  hostilities  on 
every  city  on  the  Asian  coast  that  acknowledged  the  government 
of  Persia.  AVe  remarked  in  a  former  chapter,*  that  after  the 
expulsion  of  the  Pisistratidcc   from   Athens,    Hijipias,    the  last  of 


*  Book  i.  chap.  x.  in  fine. 


123  UNIVERSAL   IIISTOIIV.  [iJOOK  [I 

that  family,  betook  liiinsclf  to  tlic  Laccda-nioriians,  wlio,  ))lcascicl 
with  tiie  o|)poitiiiiity  of  liaiassiiig  llicir  rival  slate,  had  iiicn'cctually 
endeavored  to  form  a  league  with  ihe  other  nations  of  Greece 
for  replacing  Ilippias  on  the  throne  of  Athens.  As  this  project 
soon  became  abortive,  IIij)pias  had  betaken  himself  for  aid  to 
Arta))hernes,  the  Persian  governor  of  Lydia,  then  resident  at 
Sardis,  its  capital  city.  This  satrap  eagerly  embraced  a  scheme 
which  coincided  v/ith  tiie  views  of  his  n)aster  Darius,  who,  enraged 
at  the  revolt  of  the  lonians,  and  the  aid  they  had  found  from 
Athens  and  the  Greek  islands,  meditated  nothing  less  tlian  the 
conquest  of  all  Greece.  The  lonians,  with  their  Athenian  allies, 
.  ravpged  and  burnt  the  city  of  Sardis,  destroying  the  nuignificeni 
temple  of  Cybele,  the  tutelary  goddess  of  the  country  ;  but  the 
Persians  defeated  them  with  great  slaughter,  and  compelled  the 
Athenians  hastily  to  re-embark  their  troops  at  Ephesus,  glad  tc 
make  the  best  of  their  way  to  Greece.  This  insult,  however, 
sunk  deep  into  the  mind  of  Darius,  and  from  that  moment  he 
vowed  the  destruction  of  Greece.  That  his  resolution  might 
suffer  no  delay  or  abatement,  he  caused  a  crier  to  proclaim  every 
day  when  he  sat  down  to  table,  "  Great  sovereign,  remember  the 
Athenians.  "  Previously  to  the  commencement  of  his  expedition, 
he  sent,  according  to  a  national  custom,  two  heralds  into  the  coun- 
try which  he  intended  to  invade,  who,  in  their  master's  name, 
demanded  earth  and  water,  the  usual  symbols  of  subjection.  The 
insolence  of  this  requisition  provoked  the  Athenians  and  S])artan5 
into  a  violation  of  the  law  of  civilized  nations.  They  granted  the 
request  of  the  ambassadors  by  throwing  one  of  them  into  a  ditch, 
and  the  other  into  a  well.* 

Many  others,  however,  of  the  cities  of  Greece,  and  all  the  islands, 
intimidated  by  the  great  armament  of  Darius,  to  which  they  had 
nothing  effectual  to  oppose,  sent  the  tokens  of  submission.  But 
the  Persian  fleet  of  three  hundred  ships,  commanded  by  Mardo- 
nius,  being  wrecked  in  doubling  the  promontory  of  Mount  Aihos, 
(a  peninsula  which  juts  out  into  the  iEgean  from  the  southern 
coast  of  Macedonia,)  this  disaster  gave  spirits  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  islands,  who  now  returned  to  their  allegiance  to  the  mother 
country,  and  cheerfully  exerted  all  their  powers  in  a  vigorous 
opposition  to  the  common  enemy. 

A  new  fleet  of  600  sail  was  now  equipped  by  Darius,  which 
began  hostilities  by  an  attack  on  the  isle  of  Naxos.  Its  principal 
city,  with  its  temples,  was  burnt  to  the  ground,  and  the  inhabitants 
were  sent  in  chains  to  Susa.  Many  of  the  other  islands  underwent 
the  same  fate ;  and  an  immense  army  was  landed  in  Euboea, 
which,  after   plundering   and    laying    waste   the    country,    poured 


•  Hprodot.  1.  vii.  c.  133. 


CH     I.J  BATTLE    OF    MARATHON'.  129 

down  ultli  impetuosity  upon  Attica.  It  was  conducted  by  Datis, 
a  Mcde,  who,  under  the  guidance  of  the  traitor  Hippias,  led  them 
on  towards  Marathon,  a  small  village  near  the  coast,  and  within  ten 
miles  of  the  city  of  Athens. 

The  Athenians,  in  this  critical  juncture,  armed  to  a  man.  Even 
the  slaves  of  the  republic  were  enrolled,  and  cheerfully  gave  their 
services  for  the  common  defence  of  the  country.  A  hasty  demand 
of  aid  was  made  upon  the  confederate  states,  but  the  suddenness 
of  the  emergency  left  no  time  for  effectually  answering  it.  The 
Plata^ans  sent  a  thousand  men,  the  whole  strength  of  their  small 
c"  y.  The  Spartans  delayed  to  march,  from  an  absurd  superstition 
of  beginning  no  enterprise  till  after  the  full  moon.  The  Athenians, 
therefore,  may  be  said  to  have  stood  alone  to  repel  this  torrent. 
The  amount  of  their  whole  army  was  only  10,000  men;  the  army 
of  the  Persians  consisted  of  lO'OjOOO  foot,  and  10.000  horse  —  a 
vast  inequality. 

The  Athenians,  with  a  very  injudicious  policy,  had  given  the 
command  of  the  army  to  ten  chiefs,  with  equal  authority.  The 
mischiefs  of  this  divided  power  were  soon  perceived.  Happily, 
among  these  commanders  was  one  man  of  superior  powers  of 
mind,  to  whose  abilities  and  conduct  all  the  rest  by  common  con- 
sent paid  a  becoming  deference.  This  was  jNIiltiades.  The 
Athenians  for  some  time  deliberated  whether  it  was  their  best 
policy  to  shut  themselves  up  in  the  city,  and  there  sustain  the 
attack  of  the  Persians,  or  to  take  the  field.  The  former  measure 
could  only  have  been  thought  of  in  regard  of  their  great  inferiority 
in  numbers  to  the  assailing  foe.  But  there  is  scarcely  an  inequality 
of  force  that  may  not  be  compensated  by  resolution  and  intrepidity. 
By  the  counsel  of  Miltiades  and  Aristides,  it  was  resolved  to  face 
the  enemy  in  the  field.  Aristides,  when  it  was  his  turn  to  com- 
mand, yielded  his  authority  to  Miltiades  ;  and  the  odier  chiefs, 
without  scruple,  followed  his  example. 

.  Miltiades  drew  up  his  little  army  at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  which 
covered  both  the  flanks,  and  frustrated  all  attempts  to  surround 
him.  They  knew^  the  alternative  was  victory  or  death,  and  that 
all  depended  on  a  vigorous  effort  to  be  made  in  one  moment;  for  a 
lengthened  conflict  was  sure  destruction.  The  Greeks,  therefore, 
laying  aside  aH  missile  weapons,  trusted  every  thing  to  the  sword. 
At  the  word  of  command,  instead  of  the  usual  discharge  of  javelins, 
they  rushed  at  once  upon  the  enemy  with  the  most  desperate 
impetuosity.  The  disorder  of  the  Persians,  from  this  furious  and 
uii(;xpected  assault,  was  instantly  ])erceived  by  Miltiades,  and  im- 
proved to  their  destruction  by  a  charge  made  by  both  the  wings  of 
the  Athenian  army,  in  which  with  great  judgment  he  had  ])laced  the 
best  of  his  troops.  The  army  of  the  Persians  was  broken  in  a 
moment:  their  immense  numbers  increased  their  confusion,  and  the 
whole  were  put  to  flight.  A  great  carnage  ensued.  Six  thousand 
three  hundred  were  left  dead  on  the  field  of  Maralhon;  and  among 
VOL.   I.  17 


ISO  UNIVERSAL    HISTORT.  [boOK    II 

lliesr  llio  ij^ii'.)blo  IIi|)|)ias,  whoso  criminal  an.ljiiion  uouki  liave 
saciiliccd  and  enslaved  iiis  country.  The  Atiieiilans,  in  ihis  day 
of  j;lury,  lost  only  a  hundred  and  nip"ty  men.  The  Spartans 
came  the  day  after  the  battle,  to  witness  ihc  triiini])h  of  their 
rival  state. 

The  event  of  this  remarkable  engagement  dissipated  the  tcrroi 
of  the  Persian  name;  and  this  first  successful  experiment  of  their 
stiengih  was  a  favorable  omen  to  the  Greeks  of  the  final  issue  of 
the  contest.  With  presumptuous  confidence,  the  Persians  1  ad 
brought  marble  from  Asia  to  erect  a  triumphal  monument  on  the 
subjugation  of  their  enemies.  The  Athenians  caused  a  statue  of 
Nemesis,  the  Goddess  of  Vengeance,  to  be  formed  out  of  this 
marble,  by  the  celebrated  Phidias;  and  tablets  to  be  erected,  on 
which  were  recorded  the  names  of  the  heroes  who  had  fallen  in 
the  fight.  Among  the  Arundelian  marbles  at  Oxford  is  a  Psephis 
Tiia,  or  decree,  of  the  peoj)le  of  Athens,  j)ublished  on  occasion  of 
the  battle  of  Marathon.  The  Athenians  likewise  caused  a  large 
^)ainting  to  be  executed  by  Pana;us,  the  brother  of  Phidias,  in 
which  iMiltiades  was  represented  at  the  head  of  his  fellow  chiefs 
haranguing  the  army.  This  was  the  first  emotion  of  Atlienian 
gratitude  to  the  man  who  h;id  saved  his  country.  But  merit,  the 
more  it  was  eminent  and  illustrious,  became  the  more  formidable, 
or,  to  use  a  juster  phrase,  the  more  the  object  of  envy  and  detrac- 
tion to  this  fickle  people.  Miltiades,  charged  with  the  command 
of  reducing  some  of  the  revolted  islands,  executed  his  commission 
with  honor,  with  respect  to  most  of  them  ;  but  he  was  unsuccess- 
ful in  an  attack  against  the  isle  of  Paros.  He  was  dangerously 
wounded;  the  enterprise  miscarried;  and  he  returned  to  Athens. 
With  the  most  shocking  ingratitude  he  was  capitally  tried  for 
treason,  on  an  accusation  brougiit  against  him  by  his  political 
antagonist  Xanthippus,  of  his  having  taken  Persian  gold  to  betray 
his  country.  Unable,  from  his  wound,  to  appear  in  person,  his 
cause  was  ably  pleaded  in  the  Ecclesia  by  his  brother  Tisagoras  ; 
but  all  he  could  obtain  was  a  commutation  of  the  punishment  of 
death  into  a  fine  of  fifty  talents,  (about  9,400/.  sterling.)  a  sum 
which  being  utterly  unable  to  pay,  he  was  thrown  into  prison, 
where  he   died  of  his  wounds. 

The  Persian  monarch,  meantime,  had  been  only  the  more  exa? 
peratcd  by  his  bad  success;  and  he  now;  prepared  to  invade  Greece 
with  all  the  power  of  Asia.  It  was  the  fortune  of  Athens,  notwith- 
standing her  ingratitude,  still  to  nourish  virtuous  and  patriotic  citi 
zens.  Such  was  Aristides,  who,  at  this  important  period,  had  the 
greatest  influence  in  conducting  the  afiairs  of  the  republic;  a  man  of 
singular  abilities,  whose  extreme  moderation,  and  a  mind  superior 
to  all  the  allurements  of  selfish  ambition,  had  deservedly  fixed  on 
him  the  epithet  of  the  just. 

Thcmistocles,  who,  in  many  respects,  was  of  a  very  op]insite 
character  from  Aristides,  was  the  jealous  rival  of  his  honors  and 


CII.   I.]  INVASION    BY    XERXES.  131 

repu'alion.  Both  of  these  eminent  men  soiiirht  the  glory  of  their 
country;  the  one  from  a  disinterested  spirit  of  virtuous  patriotism, 
the  other  from  the  amhitious  desire  of  unrivalled  eminence  in  that 
state  which  he  labored  successfully  to  aggrandize.  Themistocles 
bent  his  whole  attention,  in  this  critical  situation  of  his  country,  to 
ward  off  the  storin  which  he  saw  threatened  from  Persia.  Sen- 
sible that  a  powerful  fleet  was  the  first  object  of  importance  for  the 
defence  of  a  country  every  where  open  to  invasion  from  the  sea, 
he  ])rocured  the  profits  of  the  silver  mines  belonging  to  the  repub- 
lic to  be  employed  in  equipping  an  armament  of  a  hundred  long 
galleys.* 

In  this  interval  happened  the  death  of  Darius:  he  was  succeeded 
by  his  son  Xerxes,  whom  he  had  by  Atossa,  the  daughter  of  Cyrus. 
The  heir  of  his  father's  ambition,  but  not  of  his  abilities,  Xerxes 
adopted  with  impetuosity  the  project  of  the  destruction  of  Greece, 
and  armed  an  innumerable  multitude  —  as  Herodotus  says,  above 
five  millions  of  men — for  that  expedition;  a  calculation  utterly 
incredible  —  but  which  serves  at  least  to  mark  a  number,  though 
uncertain,  yet  altogether  prodigious.  The  error  of  this  estimate 
becomes  palpable,  when  we  attend  to  the  number  of  ships  by 
which  this  force  was  to  be  transported.  These  were  twelve  hun- 
dred ships  of  war,  and  three  thousand  transports. 

The  impatience  of  Xerxes  could  not  brook  the  delay  that  would 
have  attended  the  transportation  of  this  immense  body  of  land  forces 
m  his  fleet  across  the  iEgean,  which  is  a  very  dangerous  navigation, 
or  even  by  the  narrower  sea  of  the  Hellespont.  He  ordered  a 
bridge  of  boats  to  be  constructed  between  Sestos  and  Abydos,  a 
distance  of  seven  furlongs  (seven  eighths  of  a  mile.)  This  struc- 
ture was  no  sooner  completed,  than  it  was  demolished  by  a  tempest. 
In  revenge  of  this  insult  to  his  power,  the  directors  of  the  work 
were  beheaded,  and  the  outrageous  element  itself  was  punished,  by 
throwing  into  it  a  pair  of  iron  fetters,  and  bestowing  three  hundred 
lashes  upon  the  water.  After  this  childish  ceremony,  a  new  bridge 
was  built,  consisting  of  a  double  range  of  vessels  fixed  by  strong 
anchors,  and  joined  to  each  other  lay  immense  cables.  On  this 
structure  the  main  body  of  the  army  passed,  in  the  space  of  seven 
days  and  nights.  It  was  necessary  that  the  fleet  should  attend  the 
motions  of  tiie  army;  and  to  avoid  a  disaster  similar  to  that  which 
had  happened  to  the  armament  under  Mardonius,  Xerxes  ordered 
the  promontory  of  Athos  to  be  cut  through,  by  a  canal  of  sufficient 
breadth  to  allow  two  ships  to  sail  abreast.  This  fact,  though  con- 
fidently asserted  by  Herodotus,  Thucydides,  and  Diodorus,  the  first 
actually  contemporary  with  the  event,  has  yet  so  much  the  air  ol 


"  Tlie  s.in-acioua  Tliomlstoolrs  did  not  disdain  to  avail  himsplf  of  the  supersti- 
tious spirit  of  his  coiintryiiuMi  in  aid  of  his  wiso  precautions.  'I'lie  Delphic  ()racle, 
consulted  on  Itie  fiite  of  the  country,  answered  that  the  Greeks  would  owe  their 
safelj'  to  wooden  walls 


132  UNIVKUSAI.    HISTORY.  [bOOK  II 

roniaiK  0,  llial  It  lias  been  classed  among  the  fables  of  anrlcnt  Iiistory 


crrditiir  olitn 


Vi'iific.'ilns  Allios,  ot  i)uic(|iiid  Grn'cia  inendax 
Audel  in  liistoiia  : — " 

and  modern  travellers  who  have  surveyed  the  ground,  assert  that  it 
exhibits  no  vestices  of  such  an  operation. 

The  object  of  Xerxes'  experlition  was  profcssodly  the  chastise- 
ment of  Athens,  for  the  aid  she  had  given  to  his  revolted  subj(!Ct3 
of  the  lesser  Asia;  but  the  prodigious  force  which  he  set  in  motion 
had,  beyond  doubt,  the  conquest  of  ail  Greece  for  its  real  pirpose. 
If  Athens  then  took  the  principal  part  in  this  contest,  and  finally 
prevailed  in  it,  we  cannot  iiesitate  to  assent  to  the  opinion  exj)ressed 
by  Herodotus,  that  to  this  magnanimous  republic  all  Greece  was 
indebted  for  her  freedom  and  existence  as  a  nation. 

But  Athens  herself  was  at  this  very  time  the  prey  of  domestic 
faction,  and  was  divided  between  the  partisans  of  Themistocles 
and  Aristides.  The  former  could  no  longer  bea""  the  honors  and 
reputation  of  his  rival.  By  industriously  dissemiiating  reports  to 
his  prejudice,  and  representing  that  very  moder;-tion  which  was 
the  shining  feature  of  his  character,  as  a  mere  dev.ce  to  gain  popu- 
larity, and  the  artful  veil  of  the  most  dangerous,  b-^cause  the  most 
disguised  ambition,  he  so  poisoned  the  mind  of  tlie  people  that  they 
insisted  for  the  judgment  of  the  ostracism;  the  cjnsequence  was, 
that  the  virtuous  Aristides  was  banished  for  tea  years  from  his 
country. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  Athens  while  Xerxes  had  mustered  his 
prodigious  host  upon  the  plains  of  Thessaly.  The  greater  part  of 
the  states  of  Greece  either  stood  aloof  in  this  crisis  of  the  national 
fate,  or  meanly  sent  to  the  Persian  monarch  the  dfnanded  symbols 
of  submission.  Even  Lacedaemon,  though  expressing  a  determined 
resolution  of  defence  against  the  common  cncmv,  sent  no  more 
effective  force  to  join  the  Athenian  army  than  three,  hundred  men, 
but  these,  as  we  shall  see,  were  a  band  of  heroes.  The  Corinthi- 
ans, Thespians,  Platacans,  and  ^Eginetes  contributf'd  each  a  small 
contingent. 

Xerxes  now  proceeded  by  rapid  marches  towards  the  pass  of 
Thermopylae,*  a  very  narrow  defile  upon  the  bay  of  Malia,  \Niiich 
divides  Thessaly  from  the  territories  of  Phocis  and  Locris.  In  a 
council  of  war,  held  by  the  Greeks,  it  was  thought  of  great  inpor- 
tance  to  attempt  at  least  to  defend  this  pass;  and  a  body  of  6000 
men  being  destined  for  that  purpose,  Leonidas,  one  of  the  kings 
of  Sparta,  of  high  reputation  for  his  cool  and  deliberate  courage, 


"This  defile  wag  called  ThermnjtyJa  from  the  hot  springs  in  its  vicinity.  It  is 
bounded  on  the  west  by  hiirh  precipices  which  join  tiie  loft}'  ridge  of  Mount  Oeta, 
and  on  the  east  is  terminated  by  an  impracticable  morass  extending  to  the  sea 
Mear  the  plain  of  the  Tiiessalian  citv,  Trachis,  the  passaje  was  fifty  feet  in 
breadth,  but  at  Alpene.  the  narrower  pari  of  the  defile,  there  was  not  room  for 
one  chariot  to  pass  another. 


en.  I.]  BATTLE    OF    THERMOPYLAE.  133 

was  appointed  to  command  them  on  this  desperate  service.  He 
was  jieifeclly  aware  that  liis  fate  was  irieviiable,  and  there  are 
some  facts  whicli  evince  tliat  he  and  his  followers  had  resolutely 
determined  to  devote  themselves  for  their  country.  An  oracle 
had  declared  that  either  Sparta  or  her  king  must  perish.  Plutarch 
relates  that,  before  leaving  LacedaMnon,  this  chosen  Land  of  patii- 
ots,  with  iheir  king  at  their  head,  celebrated  their  own  funeral 
games  in  the  sight  of  their  wives  and  mothers.  When  the  wiie 
of  Leonidas  bade  adieu,  and  asked  his  last  conunands  ;  "My 
desire,"  said  he,  "  is,  that  you  should  marry  some  brave  man  and 
bring  him  brave  children."  On  the  morning  of  the  engagement, 
when  Leonidas,  exhorting  his  troops  to  take  some  refreshment, 
said  that  they  should  all  sup  with  Pluto,  with  one  accord  they  set 
up  a  shout  of  joy,  as  if  they  had  been  invited  to  a  banquet.  He 
took  liis  i)ost  in  the  defile  wiih  admiraljJe  skill,  and  drew  up  his 
little  ariDV  to  the  best  advantage  possible.  After  some  fruit'ess 
attempts  on  the  part  of  the  Persians  to  corrupt  the  virtue  of  this 
noble  Spartan,  Xerxes  imperiously  summoned  him  to  lay  down 
his  arms.  "Let  him  come,"  said  Leonidas,  "and  take  them." 
Twenty  thousand  Medes  were  ordered  to  force  the  defile,  but 
were  repulsed  with  dreadful  slaughter  by  the  brave  Laceda-mo- 
niaus.  A  chosen  body  of  the  Persians,  dignified  with  the  vain 
epithet  of  the  imnioiials^  met  with  the  same  fate.  For  two  whole 
days,  successive  bands  of  tlie  Persians  were  cut  to  pieces  in  making 
the  satne  attempt.  At  length,  by  the  treachery  of  some  of  the 
Thessalians  who  had  sold  their  services  to  Xerxes,  a  secret  and 
unfrequented  t)ack  was  pointed  out  to  the  Persians,  through  which 
a  pass  might  be  gained  by  the  army  ovei'  the  mountainous  ridge 
which  ovei-hangs  the  defile  ;  and  through  this  path  a  great  part  of 
the  Persian  troops  p(.'nelrated  in  tlie  night  to  the  opposite  plain. 
The  defence  of  the  straits  was  now  a  fiuiiless  endeavor  ;  and 
Leonidas,  foreseeing  certain  destruction,  ordered  the  greater  part 
of  his  force  to  retreat  with  speed  and  save  themselves,  while  he, 
with  his  three  hundred  Sparians,  and  a  few  Thespians  and  The- 
bans,  determined  to  maintain  their  position  to  the  last  extrem- 
ity. "^I'lieir  magnanimous  moiive  was  to  give  the  Persians  a  just 
idea  of  ihi!  spirit  of  that  foe  whom  they  vainly  hopeil  to  subdue. 
They  were  all  cut  ofi",  to  one  man,  who  brought  iIk;  news  to  Sparta, 
where  be  was  treated  wiili  ignominy  as  a  cowardly  fugitive,  till  he 
wiped  ofTthat  disgrace  in  the  subsec|uent  battle  of  Plaiica. 

The  assembly  of  the  Amphictyons  decreed  that  a  monument 
should  be  erected  at  Thermopylsc,  on  the  spot  where  those  brave 
men  had  fallen,  and  that  famous  inscription  to  be  engraven  on  it, 
written  by  the  poet  Simonid(;s  in  the  true  sjiirit  of  Lacedemonian 
simplicity  : 

SI  cfii'  o)'yf//(or  ^■fcixK'^aifioy  loic  I'iTt  Ti.'^e 
KtiutSa  lui;  xnv  u'l  (_i»,uaii  jinflofinui. 

"  O  strg.niTer,  toll  it  to  the  Larpclsemnnians, 
that  \vc  lie  Iutc  in  oliodicucc  In  lior  prrccpts. 


131  UMVEUSAI.    iriSTORY.  [nuOKU 

Xerxes  conliniiiMl  his  inaicli.  It  was  at  this  time  the  period 
of  llie  eolobraiioii  of  llie  Olympic  games,  and  the  national  danger 
did  not  inlernipt  that  solemnity  ;  a  fact  which  will  admit  of  very 
opposite  iiifL'rences  ;  yet  it  was  inierpretud  by  Xerxes  lo  the 
honor  of  ihe  Greeks,  for  it  struck  him  with  the  utmost  astiMiish- 
ment.  The  Persian  army  proceeded  without  opposition  to  lavage 
the  country  in  their  progress  towards  Aiiica.  The  territory  of 
Pnocis  was  destroyed  with  fire  and  sword  ;  the  greater  part  of  the 
inhabitants  flying  for  shelter  to  the  rocks  and  caves  of  that  moun- 
tainous country.  The  town  of  Delphi,  famous  for  its  oracle,  was 
a  tenipting  object  of  plunder,  from  the  treasures  accumulated  in 
its  temple.  These  were  saved  by  the  laudable  artifice  of  the 
priests.  After  ordering  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  to  quit  their 
liouscs,  and  fly  widi  their  wives  and  children  to  the  mouniains, 
these  men,  from  their  skill  in  that  species  of  legerdemain  which 
can  work  miracles  upon  the  rude  and  ignorant,  contrived  by 
artificial  thunders  and  lightnings,  accompanied  with  horrible  noises, 
while  vast  fragments  of  rock  hurled  from  the  precipices,  gave  all 
the  appearance  of  an  earthquake,  to  create  such  terror  in  the 
assailing  Persians,  that  they  firmly  believed  the  divinity  of  the 
place  had  interfered  lo  protect  his  temple,  and  fled  with  dismay 
from  tlie  sacred  territory. 

The  invading  army  pursued  its  march  towards  Attica.  The 
Greeks  now  afforded  a  melancholy  proof  of  that  general  weakness 
which  characterizes  a  country  parcelled  out  into  small  states,  each 
jealous  of  each  other's  power,  and  selfishly  attached  to  its  petty 
interests,  in  preference  even  to  those  concerns  which  involved  the 
very  existence  of  the  nation.  The  dread  of  the  Persian  ))ower, 
thus  in  the  very  act  of  o\  erwhelming  the  country,  instead  of  ope- 
rating a  magnanimous  union  of  its  strength  to  resist  the  common 
enemy,  produced,  at  this  juncture,  a  quite  contrary  effect.  Tiie 
rest  of  the  states  of  Greece,  struck  with  j)anic,  and  many  of  them 
even  siding  with  the  invaders,*  seemed  determined  to  leave  Athens 
to  her  fate,  which  now  appeared  inevitai  le.  Themistocles  him- 
self, seeing  no  other  safety  for  his  countrymen,  counselled  them 
to  abandon  the  city,  and  betake  themselves  to  their  fleet  .  a 
melancholy  extreme,  but,  in  their  present  situation,  absoliitely 
necessary.  Those  who  from  age  were  incapable  of  bearing  arms, 
togedier  with  tho  women  and  children,  were  hastily  conveyed  to 
the  islands  of  Salamis  and  -lEgina.  A  few  of  the  citizens  resolutely 
determined  to  remain,  and  to  defend  the  citadel  to  the  last  ex- 
tremity. They  were  all  cut  off,  and  the  citadel  burnt  to  the 
gro'ind. 

Themistocles,  to  whatever  motive  his  character  may  incline  us 


*  This  disgraccfu'  fact  is  assented  in  express    terms  by   Herodotus,  lib.    viii 
e.  73 


CH     I.  1  ARTEMISIA.  \fi5 

to  attrib  ito  his  co;iduct,  now  acted  a  truly  patriotic  part.  Tl-.e 
Spartans  had  a  very  small  sham  of  the  fleet,  which  belonged  prin- 
cipally to  the  Athenians.  With  singular  moderation,  as  avowing 
his  own  inferiority  of  skill,  Themistocles  yielded  the  command  of 
the  fleet  to  Euiyhyades,  a  Sjjartan.  He  made  yet  a  greater  effort 
of  patriotism.  Forgetting  all  petty  jealousies,  he  publicly  projjosed 
the  recall,  from  banishment,  of  the  virtuous  Aristides,  whose  abili- 
ties anc  nigh  character,  he  foresaw,  might,  at  this  important  junc- 
ture, be  of  essential  servic'e  to  his  countrv. 

'J'wo  sea  engagements  were  n)ught  with  little  advantage  on  either 
side;  and  the  Greek  fleet  returned  to  the  Stiaits  of  Salamis,  between 
that  island  and  the  coast  of  Attica. 

A  woman  of  a  singularly  heroic  character,  Artemisia,  queen  of 
Halicarnassus,  from  a  pure  spirit  of  enterprise,  had  joined  the  fleet 
of  Xerxes  with  a  small  squarlron  which  she  commanded  in  person. 
The  prudence  of  this  woman's  counsels,  had  they  been  followed, 
might  have  saved  the  Persian  monarch  the  dis'istcr  and  disgrace  that 
awaited  him.  She  recommended  X'crxes  to  confine  his  operations 
to  the  attack  of  the  enemy  by  land,  to  ci^ploy  his  fleet  only  in  the 
supply  of  the  army,  and  to  avoid  all  engiccmf!;i  with  the  Grecian 
galleys,  which  now  contained  th-^  chief  for^e  cf  the  enemy.  But 
Xerxes  and  his  ofTicers  disdained  to  follow  an  rxdvice  which  they 
judged  the  result  of  female  timidity;  and  the  conpresscd  position 
of  the  Grecian  fleet  seemed  to  offer  a  favcrable  opportunity  for  a 
decisive  blow  to  their  armament.  The  flc^t  of  ihr-;  Greeks  con- 
sisted of  330  ships,  that  of  the  Persians  airoimtcd  to  1200  sail. 
The  latter,  with  disorderly  imj)etuosity,  haster<^d  to  t'^*:;  attack;  the 
former  waited  their  assault  in  perfect  order,  ar'^  with  calm  and  de- 
liberate resolution.  A  wind  sprang  up  which  b'ew  contrary  to  the 
fleet  of  the  Persians;  and  as  it  thus  became  ncessar)'  to  ply  their 
oars  with  the  greater  part  of  their  men,  their  active  force  was 
diminished,  their  motions  impeded,  and  a  confu.Mon  ens;'cd  which 
gave  their  enemy  a  manifest  advantage.  It  was  then  that  the 
Greeks  became  the  assailants:  they  raised  the  pxan,  or  song  of 
victory,  and,  aided  by  the  wind,  dashed  forward  upon  the  Persian 
scpiadron  ;  the  brazen  beaks  of  the  triremes  ove<*wheln.ipr;  and 
sinking  every  ship  which  they  touched.  The  Pers'^ns  suflered  a 
complete  and  dreadful  defeat.  Artemisia,  with  her  galieys,  kepi 
the  sea,  and  fought  to  t'ne  last  with  manly  courage;  while  Xerxes, 
who  had  beheld  the  engagement  from  an  eminence  on  the  shore,  no 
sooner  saw  its  issue,  than  he  precipitately  fled,  upon  th*^  circula- 
tion of  a  false  report  that  the  Greeks  designed  to  break  down  his 
bridge  of  boats  u))on  the  Hellespont.  The  Greeks,  lan'h'i^  from 
their  ships,  attacked  the  rear  of  the  Persian  army,  ant^  'oade  a 
dreadful  carnage,  so  that  the  coast  was  thickly  strewn  with  l^  "•  i  'ad 
bodies.* 

"  Ucrod.  1.  viii.  c.  84.  ct  spq.     Plutarch    Aristid.  Diod.  Sic.  1    x\.  c     i:      I 


1S6  u.Nnr.usAL  iiistohv.  [hook  ii 

By  tin;  orders  of  their  sovereign,  tlie  shattered  remains  of  the 
Persian  fleet  sailed  directly  for  the  Hellespont,  while  the  army, 
by  rapid  inarches,  took  the  same  route  hy  JJa'Oiia  and  Thessaly; 
marking  their  course  by  universal  desolation:  for  this  immense 
host,  after  consuming  the  natural  produce  of  the  country,  were 
reduced,  as  Herodotus  informs  us,  to  cat  the  grass  of  the  fields, 
and  to  strip  the  trees  of  their  bark  and  leaves.  The  same  writer 
mentions,  that  Xerxes  himself  never  took  off  his  clothes  to  go  to 
rest,  till  he  reached  Abdera,  in  Thrace.  Having  j)rovided,  how- 
ever, for  his  personal  safety,  he  saved,  as  he  imagined,  his  lienor, 
in  this  inglorious  enterprise,  by  carrying  to  Persia  a  few  statues 
and  rich  plunder  from  Athens,  and  leaving  300,000  men  under 
Mardonius  to  accomplish  the  conquest  of  Greece  in  the  next 
campaign. 

The  victory  of  Salamis,  the  first  great  naval  engagement  of  the 
Greeks,  convinced  them  of  the  importance  of  a  fleet  for  the  national 
defence;  and  from  that  time  their  marine,  particularly  that  of  Athens, 
became  an  object  of  serious  attention. 

Mardonius,  notwithstanding  his  immense  force,  seemed  to  have 
greater  hopes  from  the  j)ower  of  Persian  gold  than  Persian  valor. 
He  attempted  to  corrupt  the  Athenians  by  ofiering  them  the  com- 
mand of  all  Greece,  if  they  would  desert  the  confederacy  of  the 
united  states.  Aristides  was  then  archon:  he  answered,  that  while 
the  sun  held  its  course  in  the  firmament,  the  Persians  had  nothing 
to  expect  from  the  Athenians  but  mortal  and  eternal  enmity.  So 
much  did  he  here  speak  the  sense  of  his  countrymen,  that  a  single 
•citizen  having  moved  in  the  public  assembly  that  the  Persian  depu- 
ties should  be  allowed  to  explain  their  proposals,  was  instantly 
stoned  to  death. 

Mardonius,  now  determined  to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  Athens, 
prepared  to  assault  the  city  with  the  whole  of  his  force.  The 
women,  the  aged,  and  the  infants  retired,  a  second  time,  to  ilie 
neighboring  islands  ;  and  the  Persians,  without  resistance,  burnt 
and  levelled  the  city  with  the  ground.  But  the  Athenians  soon  h.  d 
an  ample  revenge.  » 

The  Spartans  sent  to  their  aid,  and  for  the  national  defence, 
5,000  citizens,  each  attended  by  seven  Helots;  in  all,  40,000 
men.  The  Tcgeans,  and  others  of  the  confederate  states,  contri- 
buted according  to  their  powers;  and  the  united  army  amounted, 
according  to  the  best  accounts,  to  Go, 000,  when  they  met  the 
Persians  under  Mardonius,  in  the  field   of  Plata^a.       This   day's 


is  singular  that  tlie  most  minute  and  Jiccurate  account  of  this  celebrated  soa- 
fight  IS  to  he  found  in  the  trajedy  of  the  Pcrscr.  hy  ^Cschvlus;  a  composition 
equally  valuable  as  a  noble  effort  of  poetic  (renius.  and  as  an  historical  record. 
As  ^schylus  was  himself  present  in  this  engairement,  and  thousands  of  iiig 
readers  were  eye-witnesses  of  the  facts,  his  accuracy  is  beyond  all  impeach 
ment. 


en.   I.J  ATHENS     REBUILT.  137 

conflict  was  a  counterpart  to  the  naval  victory  of  Salamis.  The 
Persians  were  totally  defeated:  Mardonius  was  killed  in  the  fight- 
The  slaughter  was  incredible,  as  out  of  an  army  of  300,000  men, 
only  40,000  are  said  to  have  saved  themselves  by  flight.  The 
Persian  camj),  exhibiting  all  the  wealth  and  apparatus  of  luxury, 
was  a  rich  and  welcome  plunder  to  the  conquerors.  To  complete 
die  triumph  of  the  Greeks,  their  fleet,  upon  the  same  day,  gained 
a  victory  over  that  of  the  Persians  at  Mycale, 

From  that  day,  the  ambitious  schemes  of  Xerxes  were  at  ar  end. 
He  had  hitherto  remained  at  Sardis,  in  Lydia,  to  be  nearer  the  scene 
of  his  operations  in  Greece.  On  receiving  intelligence  that  all  was 
lost,  he  wreaked  his  revenge  on  all  the  temples  of  the  Grecian  divin- 
ities which  adorned  the  cities  of  Asia;  and  returning  to  his  cajiital 
of  Susa,  sought  to  drown  in  efleminate  pleasures  the  remembrance 
of  his  shame;  but  his  inglorious  life  was  destined  soon  after  to  be 
ended  by  assassination. 

At  no  time  was  the  national  character  of  the  Greeks  higher  than 
at  the  period  of  which  we  now  treat.  A  common  interest  had 
annihilated,  for  the  time,  the  jealousies  of  the  rival  states,  and 
given  them  union  as  a  nation.  At  the  Olympic  games,  all  the 
people  of  Greece  rose  up  to  salule  Thcmistocles.  The  only 
contention  between  the  greater  republics,  was  a  noble  emulation  of 
surpassing  each  other  in  patriotic  exertions  for  the  general  defence 
of  their  country  against  the  common  foe.  But  this  feeling  seemed, 
in  reality,  to  be  an  unnatural  restraint  against  the  predominant  and 
customary  spirit  of  these  republics;  for  no  sooner  was  the  national 
danger,  the  sole  motive  of  their  union,  at  an  end,  than  the  former 
jealousies  and  divisions  recommenced. 

After  the  expulsion  of  the  Persians,  the  Athenians  now  prepared 
with  alacrity  to  rebuild  their  ruined  city,  and  to  strengthen  it  by 
additional  fortifications.  This  design  the  Spartans  could  not  regard 
with  a  tranquil  mind:  and  they  had  even  the  folly  to  send  a  fitrmal 
embassy  to  remonstrate  against  the  measure;  urging  the  weak  pre- 
tence, that  the  national  interest  required  that  there  should  be  no 
fortified  city  out  of  Peloponnesus,  lest  the  enemy,  in  the  event  of 
another  invasion,  should  make  it  a  place  of  strengdi.  The  real 
motive  of  this  extraordinary  remonstrance  was  abundantly  apparent. 
They  regarded  the  plan  of  rcbuiiding  and  enlarging  Athens  as  an 
alarming  symptom  of  their  rival's  ambition  to  establish  a  predoini-. 
nant  power.  They  were  aware  that  Alliens,  by  means  of  her  fleet, 
could  annoy  at  pleasure,  and  thus  keep  in  subjection,  a  great  pro- 
portion of  the  inferior  states.  Their  republic,  so  formidai)Ie  on 
land,  could  never,  with  her  iron  money,  have  equipped  a  fleet  to 
vie  with  that  of  Athens,  far  less  lo  resist  a  foreign  invasion  such  as 
they  had  lately  expei'i(Miced.  Conscious  of  the  superiority  already 
obtained  by  Atliens,  Spart  i  beheld  with  uneasiness  every  symptom 
of  her  aggrandizement;  she  had  no  other  means  of  retaining  hex 

VOL.1  18 


138  i;Nivr,usAi-  history  [dook  ii 

own  consequence  among  the  slates  of  Greece,  than  ihc  tiiniinishing 
that  of  her  rival. 

It  was  not  lik(;Iy  iliat  the  rrnionstrance  from  Sparla  shonld  deter 
the  Athenians  from  the  wise  and  patriotic  purpose  of  rchuilding  and 
strenglhrning  iheir  native  cily.  They  sent  Thcmistocles  to  Sparla 
to  explain  the  reasons  which  influenced  ihom  in  tliat  design,  and 
proceeded  in  tlie  meantime  to  carry  it  vigorously  into  execution: 
men,  women,  slaves,  and  even  children,  joined  their  efforts;  and  in 
a  very  short  space  of  time,  Athens  rose  from  her  ruins  with  a  great 
accession  of  strength  and  splendor.  The  harhor  of  the  Piraeus, 
under  the  direction  of  Themistocles,  then  chief  archon,  was  enlarg- 
ed and  fortified,  so  as  to  form  the  complelest  naval  arsenal  that  yet 
belongtMl  to  any  of  the  nations  of  antirjuity. 

The  Persians  still  contintiod  to  maintain  a  formidable  armament 
upon  the  sea,  and  the  operations  of  the  Greeks  were  now  exerted 
to  clear  the  TKgean  and  Mediterranean  of  their  hostile  srpiadrons. 
The  united  fleet  of  Greece  was  commanded  hy  Arislides  and 
Pausanias;  the  latter,  a  man  of  high  birth  and  authority  —  uncle 
to  one  of  the  Spartan  kings,  and  regent  during  his  ne|)hew's 
minority,  but  himself  infamous  for  betraying  his  country.  He  had 
privately  despalcliod  letters  to  Xerxes,  offering  to  facilitate  to  him 
the  conquest  of  Greece;  and  demanding  his  daughter  in  marriage, 
as  a  reward  of  this  signal  service.  Fortunately  his  letters  were 
intercepted.  The  traitor  fled  for  prof^ction  to  the  temple  of  Mi- 
nerva, a  sanctuary  from  which  it  was  judged  impossil)le  to  force 
him.  His  mother  showed  an  example  of  virtue  truly  Lacedaemonian. 
She  walked  to  the  gate  of  the  temple,  and  laying  down  a  stone 
before  the  threshold,  silently  retired;  the  signal  was  imderstood  and 
venerated;  the  Ejihori  gave  immediate  orders  for  building  a  wall 
around  the  temple,  and  within  its  ])recincts  the  traitor  was  starved 
to  death. 

Pausanias  was  succeeded  in  the  command  of  the  fleet  by  Cimon, 
the  son  of  Miltiades,  and  pupil  of  Aristides.  When  the  chief 
command  of  the  war  was  given  to  Athens,  a  new  system  was 
established  with  regard  to  the  contributions  of  the  confederate 
states,  trustins;  no  lon2;er  to  contingent  and  occasional  supplies  or 
free  gifts.  The  subsidies  to  be  levied  from  each  were  to  be  exact- 
c-:!  in  proportion  to  its  means,  and  the  revenue  of  its  territory;  and 
a  common  treasury  was  appointed  to  be  kept  in  the  Isle  of  Delos. 
The  high  character  of  Aristides  was  exemplified  in  the  important 
and  honorable  trust  witli  which  he  was  invested  by  the  common 
consent  of  the  nation.  It  appears  that  not  only  the  custody  of 
the  national  su|i|)lies,  but  the  power  of  fixing  their  proportions,  was 
conferred  on  this  illustrious  man;  nor  was  there  ever  a  cornjjlaint 
or  murmur  heard  against  the  equity  with  which  this  high  but 
invidious  function  was  administered.  The  best  testimony  of 
his  virtue  was  the  strict  frujrality  of  his  life,  and  the  honorable 
poverty  in  which  he  died.     The  public  which  defrayed  his  funeral 


CII.    I.]  THEMISTOCLES  —  ARTAXERXES.  13J 

cliarges,  and  provided  for  the  supiiort  of  his  cliildrcn,  thus  deco- 
rated his  name  with  the  noblest  meiuorial  of  uncorriipted  integrity. 

Theniistocles  was  then  at  Argos.  Mis  credit  at  Athens  had 
become  formidable;  an  ostracisin  had  been  demanded,  and  he  was 
banished  by  the  influence  of  a  faction  of  his  enemies.  lie  iiad 
fallen  under  the  suspicion  of  participating  in  the  treason  of  Pau- 
sanias;  and  circumstances,  though  not  conclusive,  afford  some 
presumptions  of  his  guilt.  It  is  said  that  the  papers  of  Pausanias, 
containing  a  detail  of  the  proposed  scheme  for  betraying  Greece 
to  Persia,  were  found  in  his  possession.  Certain  it  is  that  mea- 
sures were  taken  for  a  public  impeachment  before  the  council  of 
the  Amphictyons,  when  Themistocles,  unwilling  to  risk  tiie  con- 
sequences of  a  trial  wiiile  a  strong  party  of  the  public  were  his 
enemies,  hastily  withdrew  froin  Greece.  He  fled  first  for  protec- 
tion to  Admetus,  king  of  the  Messenians;  but  the  Greeks  threaten- 
ing a  war  against  his  protector,  he  thought  it  prudent  to  seek  a 
more  secure  asylum,  and  betook  himself  to  the  court  of  Persia, 
where  he  was  received  with  extraordinary  marks  of  distinction  and 
regard.  It  is  said  that  the  Persian  monarch  vented  this  keen 
sarcasm  against  the  Athenians,  that  he  regarded  them  as  his  best 
friends,  in  sending  him  the  ablest  man  of  their  country;  and  that 
he  sincerely  wished  they  would  persevere  in  the  same'  policy  of 
banishing  from  their  territories  all  the  good  and  wise.  Themisto- 
cles was  loaded  with  honors,  but  did  not  long  survive  to  enjoy 
them.  Remorse,  it  is  aflirmed,  had  taken  possession  of  his  mind, 
which  all  the  magnificence  and  luxury  of  the  East  could  not  dispel 
or  overpower;  and  he  is  said  to  have  swallowed  poison.  The 
Greek  historians,  philosophers,  and  poets,  all  join  in  bearing  honor- 
able testimony  to  the  splendid  talents  and  the  eminent  sei'vices  of 
Themistocles.  Ambition,  it  is  true,  was  his  ruling  passion  ;  but 
the  ambition  of  a  truly  noble  mind  seeks  the  glory  and  the  great- 
ness of  its  coimtry,  as  essential  to  the  fulfilment  of  its  own  desires  ; 
and  if  in  reality  the  designs  of  Themistocles  were  criminal,  which 
has  never  been  fully  proved,  it  is  probable  that  the  mean  jealous- 
ies of  his  political  enemies,  and  the  ingratitude  of  his  parent  state, 
drove  him  reluctantly  to  measures  at  which  his  better  nature 
revolted.  Tlis  last  request  was  that  his  bones  should  be  carried  to 
Greece,  and  buried  in  his  native  soil. 

Xerxes,  whom  we  have  remarked  to  have  died  by  assassination, 
was  succeeded  by  his  third  son,  Artaxerxes,  surnamed  Lona^ima- 
nus;  who,  in  die  absence  of  his  eldest  brother,  having  put  to  death 
the  other,  usm'ped  the  Persian  throne.  The  war  was  still  carried 
on  wnh  Greece.  Cimon,  the  son  of  Miltiades,  whose  valor  and 
abilities  compensated  to  Athens  and  to  Greece  the  loss  of  Themis- 
tocles, after  expelling  the  Persians  from  Thrace  and  from  many 
of  then-  possessions  in  the  lesser  Asia,  attacked  and  totally  de- 
stroyed tlieir  fleet  near  the  mouih  of  the  river  Eurymedon;  and 
landing  his  troops,  gained  a  signal  victory  over  their  army,  on  the 
^ame  dav. 


I    10  UN'IVKKSAL     IIISTOUy.  l"''^'^'    " 

Tlic  consequences  of  this  victory  were  certainly  important,  il 
they  produced  a  complete  cessation  of  hostihiies  on  tlie  part  o! 
Persia  against  Greece,  for  a  considerable  length  of  time.  It  has, 
indeed,  been  asserted  by  some  of  the  latest  of  the  ancient  writers, 
that  a  treaty  of  peace  was  now  concluded,  upon  these  honorable 
terms  for  Greece,  that  all  the  Greek  cities  of  Asia  should  regain 
their  independence,  and  that  no  Persian  ship  should  dare  to  come 
in  sight  of  the  Grecian  coasts;  but  this  important  assertion  reas 
xjy lu  no  sufficient  authority;  and  that  the  war  was  soon  after 
renewed  with  great  animosity,  is  a  fact  undisj)uted. 

A  dreadful  earthquake  happening  at  Laceda>mon,  which  demol- 
ished almost  every  dwelling  in  the  ciiy,  and  destroyed  about  20,000 
of  the  citizens,  the  Heloies,  taking  advantage  of  the  disorder  from 
that  calamity,  rebelled,  and  joined  themselves  to  the  Messenians, 
with  whom  the  state  was  then  at  war.  Sparta,  at  this  crisis, 
solicited  aid  from  Athens;  and,  to  the  shame  of  that  common- 
wealth, it  was  debated  in  the  public  assembly  whether  the  re(|uest 
should  be  complied  with.  Ephialtes,  the  orator,  urging  that  the 
two  states  were  natural  enemies,  and  that  the  prosperity  of  the 
one  depended  on  the  abasement  of  the  other,  gave  his  advice  to 
abandon  Sparta  to  her  calamities.  Cimon  nobly  and  powerfully 
combated  this  unworthy  sentiment,  and  his  counsel  prevailed. 
He  was  entrusted  with  the  charge  of  the  expedition  to  assist  the 
Laced;cmonians;  and  he  was  successfcil  in  ])utting  an  end  to  tho 
rebellion. 

Cimon  owed  his  consideration  with  his  countrymen  not  only  lo 
the  sj)lendor  of  his  military  talents  evinced  by  his  great  and  glori- 
ous successes,  but  to  the  remembrance  of  his  father's  virtues  and 
services,  and  above  all,  to  a  generosity  of  character  which  delight- 
ed equally  in  acts  of  private  bounty  and  public  munificence. 
Any  of  these  distinguished  merits  were  sufficient  at  Alliens  to  sow 
die  seeds  of  distrust  and  jealousy;  but  where  all  concurred,  they 
furnished  a  certain  and  infallible  preparative  of  the  humiliation  of 
their  possessor.  He  had  a  rival  too  in  the  public  favor,  who 
sought  his  downfall  as  the  means  of  his  own  elevation.  This  was 
Pericles,  a  young  man  of  a  noble  family,  of  splendid  powers,  and 
great  versatility  of  chai-acter;  who  knew  how  to  veil  his  designs 
of  ambition  with  the  most  consummate  artifice.  While  he  afiected 
the  utmost  moderation,  declining  all  public  employments  or  officf.'s, 
his  coikluct  seemed  to  be  actuated  by  no  other  motive  than  an 
amiable  diffidence  of  his  own  powers,  which,  however,  he  took 
care  to  display  whenever  occasion  offiired,  in  animated  and  elo- 
quent speeches  which  breathed  the  most  ardent  and  virtuous  pat- 
riotism. His  mind  was  liighlv  cultivated  by  the  study  of  literature 
and  the  sciences;  and  the  affiibility  of  his  manners  fascinated  all 
with  whom  he  conversed.  It  was  not  difficult  for  a  man  of  this 
character  to  gain  high  popularity  at  Athens;  and  joining  himself 
to  the  party  which  opposed  the  measures  of  Cimon,  and  seizing  a 


CH.   I."]  CIMOX PERICLES.  14j 

favorable  opportunity  when  the  popular  mind  was  wound  up  to 
their  purposes,  that  virtuous  patriot  fell  a  sacrifice,  and  was  ban- 
ished by  the  sentence  of  the  ostracism. 

The  good  understanding  between  Sparta  and  Athens  could  not 
be  of  long  continuance.  Their  mutual  jealousies  broke  out 
nfresh,  and  soon  terminated  in  an  open  war  between  the  two  le- 
publics;  and  most  of  the  minor  states  of  Greece  took  a  part  \n  the 
quarrel.  Had  these  aimed  at  absolute  freedom,  it  had  perhaps  been 
their  best  policy  to  have  stood  aloof,  and  suffered  those  domi- 
neering states  to  harass  and  weaken  eacli  other.  But  their  own 
smallness  and  insignificance  were  a  bar  to  any  plan  of  republican 
independence.  The  danger  from  the  Persians  the  common  ene- 
my, was  felt  by  all;  and  the  smaller  slates  had  no  chance  to 
escape  ruin,  but  through  their  allegiance  to  the  greater. 

In  the  course  of  this  war  between  Athens  and  Sparta,  Cimon, 
though  in  exile,  eager  to  serve  his  country,  came  to  the  Athenian 
army  with  a  hundred  of  his  friends  who  had  voluntarily  gone  with 
him  to  banishment.  But  the  Athenians  rejected  his  proffered  ser- 
vice, and  forced  him  to  retire.  His  generous  friends,  forming 
themselves  into  a  separate  band,  desperately  precipitated  them- 
selves upon  the  army  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  and  were  all  cut 
ofF.  This  incident  had  a  powerful  effect  in  dispelling  the  popular 
prejudices  against  this  illustrious  character.  The  people  of  Athens 
were  now  convinced  that  they  had  been  unjust  and  cruel  to  one  of 
their  best  patriots.  Pericles  was  aware  of  this  change  of  senti- 
ment, and  perceiving  that  his  own  popularity  might  suffer  by  a 
fruidess  opposition,  took  the  merit  to  himself  of  being  the  first 
proposer  of  a  public  decree  for  Cimon's  recall  from  banishment. 
Pericles  knew  likewise  that  his  rival's  talents  and  his  own  sought  a 
different  field  of  exertion.  ^V'hile  Cimon's  ability  as  a  general 
and  naval  commander  would  give  him  sufficient  employment  at  a 
distance,  he  himself  could  rule  the  republic  at  home  with  uncon- 
trolled authority. 

Ciuion  accordingly  returned  to  his  country,  after  an  exile  of  five 
years;  before  the  end  of  which  period  Athens  and  Sparta  hait 
renewed  their  alliance;  and  he  sailed  at  the  head  of  an  armament 
of  200  ships  of  war  against  the  Persians,  then  in  the  vicinity  of 
Cyprus,  with  a  fleet  of  300  sail.  The  squadron  of  the  Greeks 
attacked  and  totally  destroyed  them.  Cimon  at'terwards  landed  in 
Cilicia,  and  completed  his  triumph  by  a  signal  victory  over  Mega- 
byzes,  the  Persian  i;eneral,  at  the  head  of  a  great  army.  Cimon 
now  undertook  and  completed  the  reduction  of  Cyprus;  but  while 
besieging  its  capital,  and  in  the  very  moment  of  victory,  this  he- 
roic man,  wasted  by  disease  and  fatigue,  died,  to  the  general  loss 
of  Athens  and  of  Greece.  The  army,  at  his  special  request  when 
expiring,  concealed  his  death,  and  proceeded  with  vigor  in  their 
operations  till  the  object  of  the  enterprise  was  gloriously  accom- 
plished, and  Cyprus  added  to  the  dominion  of  Athens. 


142  UNIVERSAL  nrsTORY.  [nnoK  it 

Tlic  naval  and  military  power  of  Persia  was  (.-omijlctely  broken 
by  iht'so  rei)fato(l  (Icft-als  ;  and  all  fiirilier  liosiile  operaiiorjs  against 
liieir  lormidablc  enemy  were  abandoned  for  a  considcraijic  length 
of  time.  The  military  glory  of  the  Giecks  seems  at  this  j)eriot 
to  have  l)cen  at  its  highest  elevation.  They  had  maintained  a 
long  and  successfMl  war,  and  at  length  established  an  undisputed 
superiority  over  the  greatest  and  most  flouribhing  of  the  con- 
Jemporar)  empires  of  antiquity.  The  causes  of  this  sujjeriority 
arc  siifiieiently  apparent.  Greece  undoubtedly  owed  many  of  her 
triumphs  to  those  illustrious  men  who  had  the  command  of  her 
fleets  and  armies;  to  Miltiades,  to  Aristides,  to  Themistocles,  and 
to  Cimon.  But  the  noblest  exertions  of  individuals  would  have 
availed  little,  without  that  spirit  of  union  which  bound  together 
her  separate  stales  in  defence  of  their  common  liberties.  Greece 
was  only  formidable  while  united.  The  Persian  empire  infi- 
nitely superior  in  power,  and  inexhaustible  in  resources,  derived 
from  the  force  of  a  despot  an  involuntary  and  reluctant  species  of 
association,  very  different  from  an  union  arising  from  the  spirit  of 
patriotism.  The  armies  of  the  Persians,  immense  in  their  num- 
bers, were  like  the  heavy  and  inanimate  linjbs  of  a  vast  and  ill- 
organized  body.  They  yielded  a  sluggish  obedience  to  the  will 
of  the  head,  but  were  totally  incapable  of  any  spirited  and  vigor- 
ous exertion. 

But  a  season  of  rest  from  the  annoyance  of  a  foreign  foe  was 
ever  fatal  to  the  prosperity  and  to  the  real  glory  of  the  Greeks. 
Their  bond  of  union  \vas  no  longer  in  force.  The  petty  jealous- 
ies and  quarrels  of  the  different  states  broke  out  afresh,  wiih  an 
acrimony  increased  from  their  temporary  suspension. 

Athens,  which  during  the  war  had  firmly  attached  to  her  alli- 
ance a  great  many  of  the  smaller  states,  who,  in  return  for  protec- 
tion, cheerfully  contributed  their  sup|)lies  for  carrying  it  on,  was 
equally  desirous  of  maintaining  the  sanie  ascendant  in  a  season  of 
peace,  and  thus  gradually  sought  to  extinguish  the  original  indepen- 
dence of  the  smaller  states,  and  jicrpetuate  their  vassalage.  But 
these  were  jealous  of  their  freedom,  and  utterly  scorned  to  become 
the  slaves  or  tributaries  of  that  ambitious  republic.  Unable,  how- 
ever, to  withstand  her  power,  they  had  no  other  means  of  with- 
drawing themselves  from  her  dominion,  than  by  courting  an  alliance 
with  her  rival  Laced;emon:  for  to  show  that  they  could  at  pleas- 
ure join  themselves  to  either  of  these  rival  states,  was,  as  they 
flattered  themselves,  a  demonstration  that  they  were  not  depen- 
dent on  either.  The  smaller  republics  were  therefore  continually 
fluctuating  between  the  scales  of  Alliens  and  Lacedarmon;  a  cir- 
cumstance which  fomented  the  rivalship  of  the  latter  slates,  and 
imbittered  their  animosities;  while  it  increased  the  national  dis- 
sensions, and  ultimately  induced  that  general  weakness  which  paved 
the  way  for  the  reduciioi;  and  slaverv  of  Greece. 

From  tin's  period,  too,  the  martial  and  the  patriotic  spirit  began 


en.    II.]  ATHENS    AND    LACED^EMON.  143 

alike  to  decline  in  (he  Athenian  republic.  An  acquaintaince  with 
Asia,  and  the  importation  of  a  part  of  her  wealth,  had  introduced 
an  imitation  of  her  manners,  and  a  taste  for  iier  luxuries.  But  the 
Athenian  luxury  was  widely  different  from  that  of  the  Persians. 
With  the  latter  it  was  only  unmeaning  s})lendor  and  gross  sensual- 
ity ;  with  the  former  it  took  its  direction  from  taste  and  genius: 
and  while  it  insensibly  corrupted  the  severer  virtues,  it  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  it  led  to  the  most  elegant  and  refined  enjoyments  of 
life.  The  age  of  Pericles  was  the  era  of  a  change  in  the  nalloi  a. 
ipiritof  the  Athenians  :  a  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  which  had  hith- 
erto lain  dorm  uit  from  the  circumstance  of  the  national  danger 
engrossing  all  the  feelings  and  passions  of  men,  began,  now  that 
this  danger  had  ceased,  to  break  forth  with  su|3rising  lustre.  The 
sciences,  which  are  strictly  allied  to  the  arts,  and  which  always 
find  their  chiei  encouragement  from  case  and  luxury,  rose  at  the 
same  time  to  a  great  pitch  of  eminence. 

The  age  of  Pericles  is  not  the  era  of  the  highest  national  glory 
of  the  Greeks,  if  we  understand  that  term  in  its  best  and  proudest 
signification  ;  but  it  is  at  least  the  era  of  their  highest  internal 
splendor.  Under  this  striking  change,  which  is  evidently  pre- 
paratory to  their  downfall,  we  shall  proceed  to  consider  them. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Adininist.rati  in  nf  Porinlos — Poloponncsiaii  War — Sii^jro  of  PIntrra — Akibiadci 
—  Lys:m(lor — The  Thirty  Tyrnnls — Thrasybultis — Doath  of  Socralc^s — Re- 
treat of  tlic  Ten  Thousand — War  witli  Persia  torn)inaU.'d  by  the  Peace  of 
Anlalcidus. 

The  di^ath  of  Cimon  left  Pericles  for  some  lime  an  unrivalled 
iscendency  in  the  republic  of  Athens  ;  but  as  the  more  his  power 
mcreased,  he  used  the  less  art  to  disguise  his  ambitious  spirit,  a 
faction  was  gratlually  formed  to  oppose  him,  at  the  head  of  which 
was  Tliucydides,  the  brother-in-law  of  Cimon,  a  man  no  less 
eminent  for  his  wisdom  and  abilities  than  estimable  for  his  integrity. 
He  had  powerful  talents  as  aii  orator,  which  he  nobly  exerted  in 
ihe  cause  of  virtue  and  the  true  interest  of  his  rountrv  ;  but  he  was 
deficient  in  those  arts  of  address  in  which  his  rival  Pericles  so 
eminently  excelled.  While  Pericles  amus(Ml  the  people  with 
shows,  or  gratified  them  with  festivals,  and  while  he  dissi})ated  '.he 


in  trMVF.nsAi.  irisTonv.  [nooK   ii 

pnhlii-  lro;H:irn  in  niinniii)'^  llic  city  with  mn^riiificc-ul  buildings,  anJ 
lilt!  (iiiosl  prodiirlions  of  ilio  arts,  it  was  in  vain  that  ThnrycJidcs, 
ardent  in  (he  canso  of  virlno,  prescntod  to  thoir  minds  the  pictnie 
of  ancient  fiiigality  and  siniphcity,  or  iirirjcd  the  woakenins;  of  the 
power  and  re.-;oMrccs  of  the  stale  by  this  prodigal  oxpenditnre  of 
'ler  treasure.  Pericles  flattered  the  varity  of  his  countrymen  by 
representing  their  power  as  insuperable,  and  their  resources  as 
inexhaustible.  It  is  probable  that  he  was  himself  blinded  by  his 
ambition  and  vanity.  He  published  an  edict,  rof|uiring  all  the 
states  of  Greece  to  send  against  a  certain  day  their  deputies  to 
Athens,  to  deliberate  on  the  common  interest  of  the  nation.  Tiie 
Athenians  looked  on  themselves  as  the  masters  of  all  Greece  ;  out 
they  had  the  mortification  to  find  that  no  attention  was  paid  to 
their  presumptuous  mandate.  Pericles,  to  palliate  this  wound  to 
their  vanity,  from  which  his  own  credit  was  in  some  danger  of 
suffering,  ordered  the  whole  fleet  of  thr>  republic  to  be  immediately 
equipped,  and  hastened  to  make  an  ostentatious  parade  tbrough 
the  neighboring  seas,  by  way  of  evincing  the  power  and  naval 
su])eriority  of  the  Athenians.  This,  however,  was  a  wise  policy, 
and  shows  that  Pericles  knew  human  nature,  as  well  as  the  pecu- 
liar character  of  the  people  whom  he  ruled.  It  was  necessary  to 
keep  the  Athenians  constantly  engaged,  either  with  their  amuse- 
ments or  some  active  enterprise  ;  and  in  dexterously  furnishing 
this  alternate  occupation  lay  the  art  of  his  government  of  a  people 
which  surpassed  any  other  in  fickleness  of  character. 

Fostered  in  their  favorite  passions,  the  Athenians  grew  every 
day  more  vain  and  presumptuous.  They  planned  the  most 
absurd  schemes  of  conquest  ;  no  less  than  the  reduction  of  I2gy|n, 
of  Sicily,  of  that  part  of  Italy  called  .Magna  Grcecia — and  the 
subjection  of  all  their  own  colonies  to  an  absolute  dependence  on 
the  mother  state.  Pericles  now  perceived  that  he  had  gone  too 
far,  and  that,  in  flattering  their  vanity,  he  had  given  rise  to  schemes 
which  must  terminate  in  national  disgrace  and  in  bis  own  ruin.  It 
was  fortunate,  both  for  him  and  for  his  country,  that  a  seasonable 
rupture  with  Sparta  gave  a  check  to  these  romantic  projects  ;  and 
the  sagacious  demagogue,  from  that  time,  discovered  that  to  cher- 
ish the  luxurious  spirit  of  his  countrymen  was  a  safer  means  of 
maintaining  his  power  than  to  rouse  their  vanit)'  and  ambition. 
The  finances,  however,  of  the  republic  were  exhausted,  and  the 
ta^cs  of  course  increased.  The  party  of  Thucydides  complained 
of  this  in  loud  terms,  and  with  great  justice.  But  Pericles  had 
tlie  address  to  ward  off  this  blow,  by  proudly  ofTering  to  defray 
from  his  own  fortune  the  expense  of  those  magnificent  structures 
which  he  had  reared  for  the  public.  This  was  touching  the  right 
cord  ;  for  neither  the  generosity  nor  the  vanity  of  the  Athenians 
would  allow  this  ofler  to  be  accepted  ;  and  the  result  was  a  great 
increase  of  popularity  to  Pericles,  and  the  complete  humiliation  of 
the   party   of  his  enemies.     lie    now    signalized  his    triumph  by 


CH.   II.]  PELOPON.NESIAN    ^^  AR,  145 

procuring  the  banishment  of  Thiicydidcs  ;  and  on  the  pretence  of 
establishing  a  (e\v  new  colonies,  he  dexterously  got  rid  of  the  most 
turbulent  of  the  citizens  who  traversed  and  opposed  his  govern- 
ment. 

The  allies  of  the  commonwealth,  however,  loudly  comjilained 
that  the  public  treasures,  to  which  they  had  largely  contributed, 
and  which  were  intended  for  their  common  defence  and  security 
against  the  barbarous  nations,  were  entirely  dissipated,  in  gratify- 
nig  the  Athenian  poj)ulace  with  feasts  and  shows,  or  in  decorating; 
their  city  with  ornamental  buildings.  Pericles  haughtily  answered, 
that  the  republic  was  not  accountable  to  them  for  the  employment 
of  their  money,  w'hich  was  nothing  more  than  the  price  they  paid 
for  the  protection  which  they  received.  The  allies  might  have 
replied  with  justice,  that  in  ccMitributing  supplies,  they  diil  not  dis- 
charge a  debt  or  make  a  j)urchase,  but  conferred  a  de()Osit,  to  be 
faithfully  employed  for  their  advantage,  and  of  th^  expenditure  of 
which  fliey  were  entitled  to  demand  a  strict  account :  but  they 
durst  not  call  Athens  to  account  ;  and  Pericles  and  Athens  were 
of  one  opinion. 

But  an  event  now  took  j)lace,  which  silenced  all  inquiries  of 
this  nature,  and  bound  the  subordinate  and  confederate  states  in 
humble  submission  to  the  principal, — ^this  was  the  war  of  Pelopon- 
nesus. 

The  state  of  Corinth  had  been  included  in  the  last  treaty  be- 
tween Athens  and  Lacedaemon.  The  Corinthians  had  for  some 
time  been  at  war  with  the  people  of  Corcyra,  when  both  these 
states  solicited  the  aid  of  the  Athenians.  This  republic,  after 
some  deliberation,  was  persuaded  by  Pericles  to  take  part  with 
Corcyra  ;  a  measure  which  the  Corinthians  with  great  justice 
complained  of,  not  only  as  an  infraction  of  the  treaty  wiili  Sparta, 
but  on  the  ground  that  Corcyra  was  their  own  colony;  and  it  was 
a  settled  point  in  the  general  politics  of  Greece,  that  a  foreign 
power  should  never  interfere  in  the  disputes  between  a  parent 
state  and  its  colony.  A  less  important  cause  was  sufficient  to 
exasperate  the  Lacedaemonians  against  their  ancient  rival,  and  war 
was  solemnly  proclaimed  between  the  two  repul)lics. 

The  detail  of  this  war,  which  has  been  admirably  written  by 
Thucydides,  one  of  the  best  historians  as  well  as  one  of  tiie 
greatest  generals  of  antiquity,  though  it  concerned  only  the  states 
of  Greece,  becomes,  by  the  pen  of  that  illustrious  writer,  one  of 
the  most  interesting  subjects  which  history  has  recorded.  Our 
plan  excluding  all  minute  details,  as  violating  the  due  proportions 
in  the  comprehensive  j)icturc  of  ancient  history,  necessarily  con- 
fines us  to  a  delineation  of  outlines. 

The  greater  part  of  the  continental  states  of  Greece  declared 
for  Sparta.  Tini  Isles,  dreading  the  naval  power  of  Athens,  toolf 
part  with  thu  republic.  Thus  the  principal  strength  of  Sparta 
was  on  land,  and  that  of  Athens  at  sea  ;  whence  it  may  be  judsed 

VOL.   I.  \j 


146  uNivF.nsAi.  insTORT.  [nooK  ii 

dial  llio  0|»|)osiiig  stales  inig;lil  long  annoy  each  other,  beftJie  any 
approach  to  a  ilecisive  cngair;eni('nt. 

Tlie  army  of  the  Lace(Ja;monians,  'vhich  amounted  lo  above 
GO,UUO  uicn,  was  more  than  doiihle  that  of  the  Athenians  and 
iheir  allies.  But  this  inequality  was  balanced  by  the  great  siipe- 
riorily  of  the  maiinc  of  Athens.  Their  plan  of  military  opcralions 
was,  therefore,  quite  dilierent.  The  Athenian  fleet  ravaged  the 
coasts  of  Peloponnesus  ;  while  the  army  of  the  Laf-echcmonians 
desolated  the  territory  of  Attica  and  its  allied  states,  and  proceeded 
wiih  little  resistance  almost  lo  the  gates  of  Athens.  The  Athe- 
nians, feeling  the  disgrace  of  being  thus  braved  u[)on  their  own 
territory,  insisted,  with  great  impatience,  that  Pericles  should 
allow  them  to  face  the  enemy  in  the  field  ;  but  he  followed  a 
wiser  plan  cf  operation.  He  bent  his  whole  endeavor  to  fortify 
the  city,  while  he  kept  the  Lacedaemonians  constantly  at  bay  by 
skirnnsliing  parties  of  horse  ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  tl)e  Athenian 
fleet  of  100  sail  was  desolating  the  enemies'  coasts,  and  plundering 
and  ravaging  the  Spartan  territory.  The  consequence  was,  the 
Spartans,  abandoning  all  hope,  which  they  had  at  first  conceived, 
o(  taking  Athens  by  siege,  ended  the  campaign  by  retreating  into 
Peloponnesus.  The  Athenians,  in  honor  of  their  countrymen  who 
had  lailen  in  battle,  celebrated  magnificent  funeral  games,  and 
Pericles  jn'onounced  an  animated  eulogium  lo  their  memory,  which 
is  given  at  large  by  Thucydides. 

In  the  next  campaign,  the  Lacedannonians  renewed  the  invasion 
of  Attica  ;  and  the  invaded  had  to  cope  at  once  with  all  the  horrors 
of  war  and  pestilence  ;  for  Athens  was  at  this  lime  visited  by  one 
of  the  most  dreadful  plagues  recorded  in  history.  The  particulars 
of  this  calamity  arc  painted  in  strong  and  terrible  colors  by  Thu- 
cydides, who  speaks  from  his  own  experience,  as  he  was  among 
those  who  were  aHected,  and  survived  the  contagion.  One  extra- 
ordinary effect  he  mentions,  which  ue  know,  likewise,  lo  have 
ha))pened  in  other  times  and  places  from  the  same  cause.  The 
general  despair  produced  the  grossest  profligacy  and  licentiousness 
of  manners.  It  seems  to  be  common,  too,  to  all  democratic  gov- 
ernments, that  every  public  calamity  is  charged  to  the  account  of 
their  rulers.  Pericles  was  blamed  as  the  occasion,  not  only  of 
the  war,  but  of  the  pestilence;  for  the  great  numbers  cooped  up 
in  the  city  were  supposed  to  have  corrupted  the  air.  The  Athe- 
nians, losing  all  resolution  to  struggle  with  their  misfortunes,  sent 
ambassadors  to  Sparta  to  sue  for  peace  ;  but  this  humiliating 
measure  served  only  to  increase  the  arrogance  of  their  enemies, 
who  lefused  all  accommodation,  unless  upon  terms  utterly  dis- 
graceful to  the  suppliant  state.  Although  Pericles  had  strongly 
dissuaded  his  countrymen  from  what  he  thought  a  mean  and 
pusillanimous  measure,  they  scrupled  not  to  make  him  the  victim 
of  its  failure,  and  with  equal  injustice  and  ingratitude,  they  de- 
prived him  of  all  command,   and   inflicted   on  him  a  heavy  fine. 


en.   11  J  PEI.OPO.VNESIAV    WAR.  147 

But  they  found  no  change  for  the  better  from  his  removal.  Those 
factions  wiiich  he  had  a  matchless  skill  in  managing  and  controlling, 
began  to  excite  fresh  disorders;  and  the  very  men  who  had  solicited 
and  procured  his  disgrace,  were  now  the  most  eager  to  restore  hirn 
to  his  former  power.  Such  was  the  fickleness  of  die  Athenian 
character;  so  fluctuating  are  the  minds  and  the  counsels  of  a  mob — 
and  so  insignificant  their  censure  and  applause. 

This  extraordinary  man  did  not  long  survive  the  recovery  of 
his  honors  and  ascendency.  On  his  death-bed  he  is  said  to  have 
drawn  comfort  from  this  striking  reflection,  that  he  had  never  made 
one  of  his  countrymen  wear  moinning;  a  glorious  object  of  exulta- 
tion for  the  man  who  had  run  a  career  of  the  most  exalted  ambi- 
tion, who  had  sustained  the  character  of  the  chief  of  his  country, 
and  in  that  capacity  had  at  his  command  the  lives  and  fortunes  of 
all  his  fellow  citizens.  The  eulogists  of  republican  moderation 
and  frugality  have  reproached  Pericles  with  his  ambition,  his 
vanity,  and  liis  taste  for  the  elegant  arts  subservient  to  luxury  and 
corruption  of  manners;  and  these  features  of  his  mind,  without 
doubt,  had  a  sensible  influence  on  the  character  of  his  country; 
but  his  integrity,  his  generosity  of  heart,  the  wisdom  of  his  coun- 
sels, and  the  pure  spirit  of  patriotism  which  dictated  all  his  public 
measures,  have  deservedly  ranked  him  among  the  greatest  men  of 
antiquity. 

The  celebrated  Aspasia,  first  the  mistress  and  afterwards  the  wife 
of  Pericles,  had  from  her  extraordinary  talents  a  great  ascendency 
over  his  mind,  and  was  supposed  frequently  to  have  dictated  his 
counsels  in  the  most  important  concerns  of  the  state.  She  was 
believed  to  have  formed  a  society  of  courtesans,  whose  influence 
over  their  gallants,  young  men  of  consideration  in  the  rejiublic,  she 
thus  rendered  subservient  to  the  political  views  of  Pericles.  The 
adversaries  ol  his  measures  employed  the  comic  poets,  Eupolis, 
Cratinus,  and  others,  to  expose  these  political  intrigues  to  public 
ridicule  on  the  stage;  but  Pericles  maintained  his  ascendency,  and 
Aspasia  her  influence;  for  such  were  the  powers  of  her  mind,  and 
the  fascinating  charms  of  her  conversation,  that  even  before  her 
marriage  and  while  exercising  the  trade  of  a  courtesan,  her  house 
was  the  frecpicnt«resort  of  the  gravest  and  most  respectable  of  the 
Athf'uian  citizens;  among  the  rest,  of  the  virtuous  Socrates. 

The  age  of  Pericles  is  the  era  of  the  greatness,  the  splendor, 
and  the  luxury  of  Athens,  and  consequently  the  period  from  which 
we  may  date  her  decline.  The  power  of  Athens  was  not  built  on 
any  solid  basis.  She  was  rich  only  from  the  contributions  of  her 
numerous  allies;  and  when  these  withdrew  their  subsidies  and 
shook  ofl"  their  dependence,  which  they  were  ever  ready  to  do 
when  they  were  not  in  danger,  her  power  declined  of  course:  for 
the  territory  of  the  republic  was  small  and  unproductive,  and  her 
internal  resources  extremely  liiuited.  Had  Sparta  adhered  to  the 
spirit  of   her  constitution,  she  was  much  more  independent  than 


MB  UMvr.r.sAr.  history.  [book  ii 

Atlions.  Her  siliiaiion  naturally  gave  licr  tlie  command  of  P».-]o- 
j)onne.siis.  She  conld  employ  the  subsidies  of  iior  allies  to  no  other 
purposes  than  those  for  which  they  were  destined;  and  therefore 
required  no  more  than  what  the  expenses  of  war  necessarily  demand- 
ed. Her  confederate  states,  therefore,  paid  an  easy  price  for  jtro- 
tection,  and  conse(|uentIy  found  it  always  their  best  interest  to  ad- 
here to  their  allegiance.  With  these  advantages,  the  balance  was 
much  in  favor  of  Sparta,  in  her  contest  with  Athens.  I>ul  one 
false  step  threw  the  weight  into  the  opposite  scale. 

The  Spartans,  eager  to  cope  with  the  Athenians  at  sea  as  well 
as  on  land,  solicited  the  aid  of  Persia  to  furnish  them  with  a  fleet. 
This  measure,  which  opened  Greece  a  second  time  to  the  barba- 
rians, annihilated  the  patriotic  reputation  of  Laceda^mon,  and  de- 
tached many  of  the  states  from  her  allegiance,  through  the  just  dread 
of  subjection  to  a  foreign  power. 

It  is  sufficient  to  give  a  general  idea  of  the  conduct  of  the  Pelo- 
j)onnesian  war;  its  detail  must  be  sought  in  Thucydides  and  Xeno- 
])hon.  Thucydides  lived  only  to  complete  the  history  of  the  first 
twenty-one  years  of  the  Peloponnesian  war  ;  the  transactions  of 
the  remaining  six  years  were  detailed  by  Xenophon,  in  his  Grecian 
Ilistorv.  Neither  party  seem  to  have  pursued  any  fixed  or  uniform 
plan  of  operations.  The  theatre  of  war  was  continually  shifting 
from  one  quarter  of  Greece  to  another,  as  occasional  successes 
seemed  to  direct;  but  ignorant  how  to  push  advantages,  and  equally 
dispirited  with  trifling  losses,  the  rival  states  were  always  alternately 
disposed  to  peace,  or  a  renewal  of  hostilities. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  transactions  of  this  war  was  the  gal- 
lant defence  made  by  the  little  town  of  Platara,  which  sustained  a 
siege  and  blockade  for  near  two  years,  against  the  power  of  the 
combined  states  of  Peloponnesus.  As  this  is  the  first  regular  siege 
of  which  history  gives  us  any  complete  detail,  a  short  narrative  of 
its  ])articulars,  as  described  by  Thucydides,  will  be  useful,  as  illus- 
trating the  state  of  the  military  art  at  that  period,  in  so  far  as  regards 
the  attack  and  defence  of  fortified  places. 

Plats-a,  in  the  Boeotian  district  of  Greece,  and  not  far  distant 
from  Thebes,  being  frequently  harassed  by  that  republic,  had 
allied  herself  to  Athens  as  her  surest  defence  against  servitude  and 
oppression.  This  alliance  brouglit  on  her  the  hostility  of  the 
Peloponnesian  confederacy  :  but  remembering  the  signal  services 
of  this  small  state  at  the  time  of  the  Persian  invasion,  the  Spartans 
proposed  to  compromise  matters  with  Platjra,  provided  she  re- 
nounc'ed  her  treaty  of  union  with  Athens,  and  put  herself  under  the 
protection  of  Laceda^mon.  The  Athenians,  in  the  meantime,  sent 
the  PlatJeans  an  assurance  of  all  their  support,  and  this  determined 
PlatcPa  to  kee])  firm  to  her  ancient  friends.  The  Spartans,  think- 
ing they  had  now  fulfilled  every  obligation  of  honor,  laid  vigorous 
siege  to  the  town,  which  contained  only  a  miserable  garrison  of 
400  citizens,   80  Athenians,   and    110  women,   besides  children 


CIl.    11."]  SIEGE    OF    PLATJEA.  149 

The  city  was  surrounded  uiili  a  wall  and  ditch,  around  which  the 
besiegers  first  planted  a  strong  circle  of  wooden  palisades.  Then 
filling  up  a  part  of  the  ditch  to  serve  as  a  bridge,  they  proceeded 
to  raise  a  mound  of  earth  against  the  walls,  which  they  strengthened 
on  the  outside  with  piles  closely  wattled  with  branches,  to  give 
stability  to  the  mound  which  was  to  serve  as  a  stage  for  tlie  engines 
of  attav:ic.  Meantime,  the  besieged,  foreseeing  that  the  enemy 
would  soon  be  in  possession  of  that  part  of  the  wall,  while  they 
took  every  means  to  annoy  the  assailants  and  impede  their  work 
by  repeatedly  undermining  the  mound,  built  a  new  wall  in  the 
inside,  in  the  form  of  a  crescent,  so  that,  should  the  outer  wall  be 
gained,  the  enemy  might  still  find  an  unforeseen  impedinient  to 
their  approach.  The  besiegers  made  small  progress,  and  were 
daily  losing  great  numbers  of  men  ;  they  therefore  tried  a  new 
j)lan,  wliich  was,  by  heaping  great  quantities  of  wood  covered 
with  pitch  and  sulphur  around  the  walls,  to  set  fire  to  the  city  in 
different  quarters  at  once.  The  experiment  promised  success, 
for  there  was  an  immense  conflagration ;  but  fortunately  for  the 
besieged,  a  torrent  of  rain  extinguished  the  fire.  On  the  failure 
of  this  attempt,  the  besiegers  determined  to  turn  the  siege  into 
a  blockade;  and  they  now  built  two  strong  walls  of  brick  around 
the  town,  which  they  strengthened  on  either  side  with  a  ditch  and 
towers  at  small  intervals  ;  and  as  the  winter  was  at  hand,  the 
Boeotians  were  left  to  guard  the  walls  and  prevent  all  succors 
from  without,  while  the  Spartans  and  the  rest  of  the  allies  return- 
ed to  Peloponnesus.  The  situation  of  the  Platscans  was  now 
extremely  hopeless;  their  stores  were  exhausted,  and  no  resource 
remained  but  to  force  a  passage  through  the  enemy's  works.  This 
one  half  of  the  garrison  attempted  and  executed  in  a  very  daring 
manner.  They  took  advantage  of  a  dark  and  stormy  night,  and 
mounting  the  enemy's  inner  wall  by  ladders,  they  surprised  and 
cut  to  pieces  the  guards  in  the  towers,  and  were  descending  the 
outer  wall,  when  the  alarm  was  given,  and  the  Boeotians  were  in  a 
moment  all  in  arms;  300  of  these  with  lighted  torches,  rushing  to 
the  place,  served  only  to  give  more  advantage  to  the  Platit-ans, 
by  showing  them  where  to  direct  their  darts  and  stones  while  they 
passed  by  them  in  the  dark.  In  a  word,  they  made  good  their 
osrapi*  to  Athens;  while  the  remaining  jiart  of  the  garrison  next 
day  surrendered  at  discretion,  and  were  barbarously  massacred  l>y 
the  exasperated  Lacedaemonians.  The  whole  operations  of  this 
siege  indicate  the  very  imperfect  state  to  which  the  art  of  war 
had  attained  at  that  time,  in  the  most  warlike  of  the  nations  of 
antiquity. 

A  truce  was  now  concluded  between  the  belligerent  powers  for 
fifty  years;  but  this  was  observed  only  for  a  few  months.  Alclb- 
iades,  who,  after  the  death  of  Pericles,  had  obtained  a  high 
ascendant  with  the  ^Vthenian  people,  which  he  owed  not  less  to 
his  noble  birth  and  great    riches  than  to  his  insinuating    manners 


ITjO  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOIIY.  [P-OOK    li. 

and  |)o\v(!is  of  cliMiuciico,  .il  lliis  lime  dircclcd  all  llic  counsels  of 
the  republic.  His  iinihilion  and  his  vaniiy  were  eqiiai  lo  those  of 
his  predecessor,  but  his  measmes  were  not  always  the  result  of 
equal  prudence.  It  seemed  lo  he  ambition,  and  the  desire  of 
op))osini;  his  rival  Nicias,  that  were  the  sole  niojives  of  his  conduct 
in  prompting  a  quarrel  between  the  people  of  Argos  and  Lacedsc- 
mon,  uhich  engaged  the  Athenians  in  support  of  the  Argivcs  to 
renew  llie  Peloponncsian  war.  The  Argivcs,  however,  had  more 
prudence  than  iheir  new  allies,  and  made  a  peace  for  ihcmselves. 
Disappointed  in  this  project,  Alcibiades  now  turned  his  views  to 
the  conquest  of  Sicily  —  a  more  s|)lendid  object  of  ambition;  but 
equally  unsuccessful,  and  much  more  disastrous  in  its  consequences. 
The  plan  of  conqueiing  Sicily  had  been  among  those  wild  pr( jects 
cherished  by  ihe  Athenians,  but  from  which  they  had  been  di^^^;ad- 
ed  by  the  ])rudeiice  of  PcricUis:  it  was  now  resumed  on  the  fr'vo- 
lous  ground  that  the  Egestans  and  Leoiitines,  two  Sicilian  states, 
had  requested  the  Athenians  to  protect  them  against  the  ojiprcssion 
of  Syracuse.  Nicias  attempted  to  convince  his  countrymen  of  the 
folly  of  embroiling  tlieiiKielves  in  this  quarrel,  which  was  a  sufficient 
motive  wiih  Alcibiades  to  encourage  it.  The  expedition  was  there- 
fore undertaken,  and  committed  lo  four  generals,  Nicias,  Lamachus, 
Demosthenes,  and  Alcibiades;  but  the  latter  had  scarcely  landed 
in  Sicily,  when  he  was  called  back  to  Athens  to  defend  himself 
against  a  charge  of  treason  and  impiety.  As  every  thing  there 
was  carried  by  a  faction,  Alcibiades  was  condemned,  and  escaped 
a  capital  punishment  only  by  taking  refuge  al  Sparta,  and  ofl'ering 
his  warmest  services  to  the  enemies  of  his  country.  Meantime  the 
dissensions  of  the  Athenian  generals,  the  time  wasted  in  besieging 
soinq  small  sea-ports,  and  the  arrival  of  succors  from  Lacediemon, 
which  strcnglheneu  and  inspirited  the  Syracusans,  combined  to  the 
total  failure  of  the  enterprise.  After  a  fruitless  nttempt  iq)on 
Syracuse,  in  the  course  of  which  Lamachus  was  killed,  and  after 
various  engagements  both  by  sea  and  land,  in  which  the  invarling 
fleet  and  army  were  always  obliged  to  act  upon  the  defensive,  tiie 
Athenians  were  totally  defeated.  They  now  attempted  a  retreat, 
but  being  closely  pursued  they  were  forced  at  length  to  surrender 
prisoners  of  war,  leaving  their  fleet  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and 
sti|)nlating  only  that  their  lives  shoidd  be  spared.  This  condition 
the  Syracusans  fulfilled  as  to  the  army,  but,  with  a  refinement  of 
barbarism,  they  scourged  to  death  the  two  generals,  Nicias  and 
Demosthenes.  Such  was  the  miserable  issue  of  this  ill-concerted 
expedition. 

The  consequences  of  these  disasters  were,  on  the  whole,  not 
without  some  benefit  to  the  Athenians.  Their  foolish  pride  was 
humbled,  their  inconsiderate  ambition  checked,  and  some  wise  and 
vigorous  reforms  were  made  in  the  constitution  of  the  republic 
Among  these  was  the  institution  of  a  new  council  of  elders,  whose 
function   was   to   digest  and  prepare   the   resolutions   touching  al) 


CH.    II.]  AI.CIIilADES.  151 

pu' lie  measures,  before  ihey  were  proposed  in  llie  puoFK;  assembly. 
Tliis,  as  a  judicious  wriier  has  reniarked,  "  was  providing  for  the 
prudence  of  executive  govern  uent,  but  not  for  vigor,  for  secrecy, 
and  for  despatch:"  a  deficiency  in  these  capital  points  is  inseparable 
from  a  constitution  purely  democratical. 

"We  have  remarked  that  Alcibiades  had  taken  refuge  at  Lace- 
dajmon.  Here  he  soon  attained  both  confidence  and  iiigh  employ- 
ment; but  this  glimpse  of  favor,  which  the  traitor  ill-deserved,  was 
of  short  din'ation.  The  principal  men  among  the  Lacedaemonians 
could  ill  brook  those  marks  of  favor  and  preference  to  a  stranger 
and  a  refugee.  His  character  was  known  as  that  of  a  thorough- 
paced politician  ;  his  motives  were  therefore  always  sus])ccted  ; 
and  while  ostensibly  employed  in  the  service  of  Sparta  with  the 
Greek  states  of  Asia — a  service  which  had  no  other  end  than  his 
own  private  interest — a  party  at  Laccdff;mon  had  procured  his 
condemnation  for  treason  against  the  state.  He  got  a  seasonable 
intimation  of  his  danger,  and  betook  himself  for  protection  to 
Tissaphernes,  the  Persian  governor  of  Sardis. 

In  the  eighth  year  of  the  Peloponnesian  uar,  the  Persian  mon- 
arch, Artaxerxes  Longimanns,  died.  He  was  succeeded  by  Xerxes 
the  Second,  his  only  legitimale  son,  who  was  soon  after  as  assiuated 
by  his  natural  brother  Sogdianus.  This  prince  was  dethroned  a 
few  months  after,  by  his  brother  Ochus,  who  assumerl  the  najne  of 
Darius,  to  which  the  Greeks  added  the  surname  of  Noihus,  or  the 
Bastard.  He  was  a  weak  prince,  controlled  entirely  by  his  queen 
Parysatis,  a  woman  of  great  artifice  and  ambition.  His  reign  was 
a  continued  series  of  rebellion  and  disturbance. 

The  versatile  character  of  Alcibiades  could  accommodate  itself 
to  all  situations.  At  Athens  he  had  alternately  llattered  the 
nobility  and  the  populace.  At  Sparta  he  assumed,  with  admirable 
hypocrisy,  the  simple  and  austere  manners  of  a  Lacedicmonian. 
At  Sardis,  the  easy  companion  of  the  luxury  and  debauchery  of 
Tissaphernes,  he  gained  over  that  satrap  the  most  entire  ascen- 
dency. This  situation  he  attempted  to  turn  to  his  advantage,  by 
making  his  peace  with  his  countrymen  of  Athens.  He  otVered 
them  the  alliance  of  Tissaphernes,  and  of  conseipiencc  the  supe- 
riority over  Sparta,  and  a  termination  of  the  ruinous  war  of  Pelo- 
ponnesus ;  but  he  made  the  absolute  conditions  of  these  advantages 
liis  own  recall,  and  a  change  of  the  Athenian  constitution  from  a 
popular  government  to  an  oligarchy  of  the  principal  citizens.  The 
spirit  of  Athens  was  broken  ;  patriotic  virtue  was  at  low  ebb  ;  and 
a  continuance  of  war,  and  of  the  tritnn|)hs  of  her  rival  state,  ofiered 
a  prospect  of  nothing  but  ruin.  The  terms  of  Alcibiades  were 
complied  with.  The  government  of  the  rej)ublic,  was  committed 
to  four  hundred  of  the  nobles,  who  were  vested  with  absolute 
authority. 

No  sooner  was  intelligence  of  this  sudden  and  extraordinary 
revolution    brought    to    the   Athenian    army  at   Samos,  than    they 


152  UMVKUSAI,    HISTOIIV.  [bOOK    II 

followed  a  conduct  cfjiinlly  extraordinary.  Tlioy  deposed  from 
connnand  those  generals  whom  they  suspected  of  favoring  the 
revolution  ;  they  sent  deputies  into  Asia,  to  court  aid  from  the 
very  man  who  was  its  author  ;  they  solicited  him  to  return  to  take 
the  chief  command,  and  rescue  their  country  from  its  new  tyrants. 
Suri)risc(l  and  delighted  with  this  most  unexpected  issue  to  his 
schemes,  Alciblades  eagerly  embraced  the  oflcr.  lie  would  not, 
however,  return  till  lie  had  merited  his  pardon  by  some  important 
services.  The  Laceda^nonian  fleet  under  Mindarus  had  seized 
tiie  island  of  Euboea,  a  most  essential  dependency  upon  Athens. 
Alcibiades  defeated  Mindarus  in  two  naval  engagements,  and 
recovered  that  important  island.  The  people  of  Athens,  exas- 
perated at  their  new  governors,  to  whose  weakness.and  contentions 
they  attributed  the  loss  of  Euboea,  began  to  look  towards  the  man 
who  had  recovered  it  as  the  prop  and  stay  of  his  country.  He 
had  increased  his  triumphs  by  the  capture  of  Byzantium,  Chalce- 
don,  and  Salymbria,  which  had  revolted  from  the  Athenian  govern- 
ment; and  when  he  appeared  with  his  ships  of  war  in  the  port  of 
Piraeus,  all  Athens  rushed  forth  to  hail  liis  arrival,  and  to  crown 
him  with  garlands  of  victory.  The  government  of  the  four  hun- 
dred nobles  was  now  abolished,  the  ancient  constitution  renewed, 
and  Alcibiades  declared  chief  general  of  the  republic  by  sea  and 
land. 

For  twenty-eight  years  the  Peloponnesian  war  was  carried  on 
with  various  success.  The  military  talents  of  Alcibiades  were 
displayed  in  several  important  victories.  While  successful,  he  was 
the  idol  of  his  country.  But  in  all  democracies,  and  democratic 
governments,  the  j)opuIarity  of  those  in  power  must  keep  pace 
with  the  success  of  the  public  measures.  A  single  battle  lost  in 
Asia  deprived  Alcibiades  of  all  his  power,  and  he  became  a  second 
time  an  exile  from  his  country.  But  it  would  appear  that  his 
absence  was  always  fatal  to  the  Athenians.  The  fleet  of  the 
republic  at  -(Tigos-Potamos,  through  the  carelessness  of  its  com- 
manders, was  entirely  destroyed  by  Lysander,  the  admiral  of  the 
Lacedicmonians.  Of  three  hundred  ships  which  had  sailed  from 
the  Piraeus,  only  eight  returned  to  the  coast  of  Attica. 

Athens,  besieged  by  sea  and  land,  was  now  at  the  last  extremity. 
Iler  fleet,  which  was  the  main  defence  of  the  republic,  was  anni- 
hilated. After  sustaining  a  blockade  of  six  monilis,  the  Athenians 
offered  to  submit,  on  the  condition  that  their  city  and  the  harbor 
of  Piiffius  should  be  saved  from  destruction.  The  Spartans  and 
allied  states  took  this  proposal  into  consideration.  The  allies 
strenuously  urged  the  total  destruction  of  the  Athenian  enijiire 
and  name.  But  the  Sjiartans  were  more  generous.  They  con- 
cluded a  peace  on  the  following  conditions, — that  the  fortifications 
of  Pirrrus  should  be  demolished  ;  that  Athens  should  limit  the 
number  of  her  fleet  to  twelve  ships  ;  that  she  should  give  up  all 
tlie  towns  taken  during  the  wai* ;  and,  for  the  future,  undertake  no 


en.  II  ]  LYSAXDER.  153 

military  enterprise  but  under  tlie  comaiand  of  the  LacedaR.iionians 
Such  was  the  issue  of  the  famous  war  of  Peloponnesus. 

It  Ts  to  the  same  Lysander  who  had  the  merit  of  terminating  tliis 
destructive  war  so  gloriously  for  his  country,  that  all  the  ancient 
writers  have  attributed  the  first  attack  upon  the  system  of  Lycnrgus, 
and  the  begmning  of  the  corruption  of  the  Spartan  constitution. 
Gold  was  now  for  the  first  time  introduced  into  Lacedaemon.  Ly- 
sander sent  home  an  immense  mass  of  plunder  which  had  been 
taken  in  Greece  and  Asia  during  the  war  of  Peloponnesus.  This 
was  a  direct  breach  of  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  state;  but  the 
period  was  now  come,  when  such  a  measure  was  not  only  justifia- 
ble, but  necessauy.  The  truth  is,  that  the  institutions  of  Lycurgus 
were  fitted  for  a  rude  period  of  society,  and  adaj)ted  to  the  reg- 
ulation of  a  small,  a  warlike,  and  an  independent  commonwealth. 
His  system  was  quite  repugnant  to  the  spirit  of  conquest,  and  the 
manners  that  are  inseparable  from  extensive  dominion.  AMien 
Lacedaemon  came  to  aspire  to  the  sovereignty  of  Greece,  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  retain  her  ancient  manners,  or  adhere  to  her 
ancient  laws.  To  preserve  the  ascendency  she  had  accjuired  in 
Greece,  it  was  necessary  cither  that  she  should  herself  accumulate 
treasures  requisite  to  pay  her  dependants  in  the  allied  common- 
wealths, and  grant  them  occasional  subsidies,  or  to  be  herself 
dependent  for  those  resources  upon  the  Persian  satraps.  Lysander 
saw  this  necessity,  and  he  took  that  alternative  which  appeared  to 
him  the  least  dishonorable.  He  procured  the  abrogation  of  that 
ancient  law  which  prohibited  the  importation  of  gold  into  the  repub- 
lic. It  was  not  allowed  a  free  circulation,  but  was  dej)osited  in  the 
public  treasury,  to  be  em|)loyed  solely  for  the  uses  of  the  state.  It 
was  declared  a  capital  ofience  if  any  should  be  found  in  the  posses- 
sion of  a  private  citizen.  Plutarch  censures  this  as  a  weak  and 
soj)histical  distinction.  It  was  indeed  easy  to  see,  that  whenever  it 
became  necessary  for  the  state  to  be  rich,  it  would  soon  become  the 
interest  and  the  passion  of  individuals  to  be  so.  This  consequence 
inimedialr'ly  followed;  and  though  some  severe  examples  were  made 
of  oflendors  against  the  law,  it  was  found  impossible,  from  this 
period,  to  enforce  its  observance. 

The  reduction  of  Athens  by  the  Spartans  occasioned  an  entiie 
change  in  the  constitution  of  the  Athenian  republic.  Lysander 
abolished  the  democracy,  and  substituted  in  its  place  an  adminis- 
tralion  of  thirty  governors,  or,  as  the  Greek  historians  term  them, 
Tt/rants.,  (Tvo<trrni,)  whose  power  seems  to  have  been  absolute, 
unless  in  so  Air  as  each  was  restrained  by  the  equally  arbitrary  will 
of  his  colleagues.  He  likewise  jilaced  a  Spartan  garrison  in  the 
citadel,  under  the  command  of  Callibius.  Soon  after  this  event, 
so  disgraceful  to  his  country,  the  celebrated  Alcibiades  was  put 
to  death,  in  Phrygia,  by  assassins  employed  for  that  puri)ose  by 
Pharnabazus,  the  Persian  governor,  who,  it  is  said,  was  proin|ited 
to  that  act  of  treachery  by  the  Lacedaemonians,  who  dreaded  to  see 
VOL.  I.  20 


154  UMVEKSAI.    IIISTOIiy.  I  BOOK   II 

this  ul)lc  and  aml)itioMs  man  once  more  reconciled  to  liis  country 
lie  perished  in  llie  fortieth  year  of  his  age. 

The  administration  of  the  thirty  tyrants  soon  became  qiiit^  intol- 
erable to  tlie  Athenians.  A  stronger  specimen  of  their  government 
cannot  he  given  than  the  following.  Thernnienes,  one  of  the  thirty, 
a  man  of  a  more  humane  disposition  than  his  cfilleagues,  having  op- 
posed the  severity  of  some  of  their  measures,  Crilias,  his  colleague, 
who  by  the  coniiolling  influence  of  the  Spartans  had  arrpiircd  the 
chief  ascendency  in  the  council,  accused  him  of  disturbing  the 
peace  of  the  stale.  The  consequence  was,  that  after  a  public  trial, 
in  which  the  philoscpher  Socrates  was  among  the  few  who  had 
courage  to  aid  him  in  his  defence,  he  was  condemned  to  die  by 
poison:  and  his  death  was  the  prelude  to  a  series  of  proscriptions, 
confiscations,  and  murders  of  the  most  respectable  of  the  citizens, 
who  were  obnoxious  to  these  sanguinary  rulers,  or  who  had  dared 
to  murmur  at  their  ))rocecdings.  It  is  computed  by  Xenophon, 
though  doubtless  with  exaggeration,  that  a  greater  number  of  Athe- 
nian citizens  lost  their  lives  by  the  sentence  of  these  tyrants,  in  the 
short  space  of  eight  months,  than  had  fallen  in  the  whole  course  of 
the  Peloponnesian  war. 

The  people  were  awed  into  silence,  and  dumb  widi  consterna- 
tion. The  most  eminent  of  the  Athenian  families  left  their  country 
in  despair ;  and  the  bravest  of  those  who  chcrisherl  a  hope  of 
restoring  its  liberties  and  putting  an  end  to  this  usurpation,  chost 
for  their  leader  Thiasybulus,  a  man  of  known  abilities  and  undaunt 
ed  resolution,  under  whose  conduct  and  auspices  they  resolved  to 
make  a  vigorous  cffovt  for  the  recovery  of  their  freedom.  Spart? 
had  strictly  prohibited  the  other  states  of  Greece  receiving,  pro- 
tecting, or  giving  any  aid  to  the  Athenian  fugitives.  Tiiehes  and 
Megaia  were  the  only  republics  which  generously  dared  to  dis- 
obey this  presumptuous  mandate.  Lyslas,  an  orator  of  Syracuse, 
sent  to  their  aid  five  hundred  soldiers,  raised  at  his  own  expense. 
This  band  of  patriots  had  now  increased  to  a  considerable  num- 
ber, and,  headed  by  Thrasybulns,  they  made  a  sudden  assault 
on  the  Piraus,  and  made  themselves  masters  of  the  port  and  for- 
tifications, which  were  the  main  defence  of  the  city  of  Athens. 
The  thirty  tyrants  hastily  assembled  their  troops  to  attack  and 
dislodge  the  assailants,  and  a  battle  ensued,  in  wliich  the  patriot? 
were  victorious.  Critlas  was  killed  ;  and  as  the  troops  of  the 
tyrants  were  making  a  disorderly  retreat,  Thrasybnhis  gallantly 
addressed  them  as  friends  and  fellow  citizens.  "  Why  do  you 
fly  from  me,"  said  he,  "as  from  an  enemy?  Am  I  not  your 
countryuian  and  your  best  friend.''  It  is  not  against  you,  but 
against  your  oppressors,  that  I  am  fighting.  Let  us  cordially 
unite  in  the  noble  design  of  vindicating  the  liberty  of  our  dear 
country."  This  appeal  had  its  proper  effect.  The  army  returned 
to  Athens,  and,  in  a  fiill  assembly  of  the  people,  the  thirty  tyrants 
were  deposed  and  expelled  from  the  city.     The  government  was 


OH.   II. J  SOCUATES.  155 

committed  to  a  council  often  citizens,  who  still  abused  their  power. 
The  deposed  thirty  solicited  the  aid  of  Sparta,  and  an  ariny  imme- 
diatek-  took  the  field,  with  the  )Hn-pose  of  re-establishing  ihein  in 
thel;-  ])o\ver  :  but  the  attempt  was  unsuccessful  :  tiie  patriots  were 
again  victorious  ;  the  oppressors  of  their  country  were  defeated 
and  slain,  and  Thrasybulus  returning  in  triumph  to  Athens,  after 
proclaiming  a  general  amnesty,  by  which  every  citizen  took  a 
solemn  oaih  to  bury  all  past  transactions  in  oblivion,  diis  brave 
and  virtuous  Athenian  had  the  signal  honor  of  restoring  to  his 
country  its  ancient  form  of  government. 

One  event  which  happened  at  this  time  reflected  more  disgrace 
upon  the  Atlie:)ians  than  all  their  intestine  dissensions  or  their 
national  humiliation.  This  was  the  pcrseruiion  and  death  of  the 
illustrious  Soci'ates:  he  who,  in  the  words  of  Cicero,  "  first  biought 
philosophy  from  heaven  to  dwell  upon  earth,  who  nimiliarized  lier 
to  the  acquaintance  of  man,  who  applied  her  divine  doctrines  to 
the  common  purposes  of  life,  and  the  advancement  of  human  hap- 
piness, and  the  true  discernment  of  good  and  evil."  This  great 
man,  who  was  die  bright  pattern  of  every  virtue  which  he  taught, 
became  an  object  of  hatred  and  disgust  to  the  corrupted  Athenians. 
He  had  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  Sophists,  a  set  of  men  who 
pretendeil  to  universal  science,  whose  character  stood  high  with 
the  Athenian  youth,  and  who  taught  their  di3ci|)les  a  Sjjecious 
mode  of  arguing  with  equal  plausibility  on  all  subjects,  and  on 
either  side  of  any  question.  Socrates  detested  this  species  of 
jugglery,  which  mined  the  foundation  of  every  moral  truth.  He 
saw  its  pernicious  influence,  and  he  was  at  pains  to  expose  the 
futility  of  this  trilling  logic,  and  to  bring  its  professors  into  merited 
contempt.  These,  therefoie,  and  a  nun)erous  party  of  their  dis- 
ciples, became,  of  course,  his  inveterate  en  niies.  They  calum- 
niated Socrates  as  a  corrtipter  of  youth  ;  for  of  these  the  most 
ingenuous  and  vir;uous  were  openly  become  his  scholars  and  parti- 
sans :  they  accused  him  as  an  enemy  to  religion,  because  in  his 
sublime  reasonings,  without  regard  to  the  superstitions  of  the 
vulgar,  he  endeavoic  i  to  lead  the  mind  to  the  knowledge  of  one 
supreme  and  beneficent  Bning,  the  author  of  nature,  and  the  sup- 
porter of  the  universe  :  they  represented  him,  in  fine,  as  a  foe  to 
the  constitution  of  his  country,  because  he  had  never  been  restrain- 
ed by  an  interested  or  selfish  policy,  from  freely  blaming  that 
inconstanry  and  fluc'iiation  of  counsels  which  majk  the  proceed- 
ings of  all  popular  assemblies.  There  was  abundant  matter  of 
accusation,  and  a  charge  of  treason  and  impiety  was  laid  against 
bim  in  full  form. 

The  ablest,  at  that  time,  of  tlie  Greok  orators,  T-ysias,  gene- 
rously oflered  to  un(lertak(^  the  defence  of  Socrates  ;  but  the  latter 
declined  to  avail  himself  of  that  olTcr.  "  I  will  not,"  said  he, 
"  suppose  my  judges  interested  in  my  condemnation  ;  and  if  I 
am  guilty,  I   must  not  endeavor  by  persuasion  to  avert  the  award 


156  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [boOK  II 

of  jiislirc."  His  deffiioe  lie  made  liinisclf,  wlllj  the  manly  forii« 
tiido  of  conscious  innocence.  Plato,  in  liis  Jlpulogia  So  rails. 
lias  given  an  ample  account  of  it.  It  consisted  of  a  simple  detai. 
of  his  life  and  conduct  as  a  public  teacher  ;  in  reference  to  which 
he  uttered  this  striking  apostrophe  :  "  I  believe,  0  Athenians,  the 
existtnice  of  God  more  than  my  accusers.  I  am  so  perfectly 
convinced  of  that  great  truth,  that  to  God,  and  to  you,  I  submit  to 
be  judged  in  that  manner  you  shall  think  best  for  me  and  for  your 
selves."  The  |)opulace,  whom  their  demagogues  had  strongly 
prejudiced  against  this  great  and  good  man,  were  affected  by  his 
defence,  and  showed  marks  of  a  favorable  disposition  ;  when 
Anytus  and  several  others,  men  of  high  consideration  in  the 
republic,  now  openly  stood  forth  and  joined  the  party  of  his  accu- 
sers. The  w(^ak  ami  inconstant  rabble  were  drawn  along  by  their 
influence,  and  a  majority  of  thirty  suffrages  declared  Socrates 
guilty.  The  punishment  was  still  undetermined,  and  he  himself 
had  the  right  of  choosing  it.  "It  is  my  choice,"  said  he,  "  that 
since  my  past  life  has  been  employed  in  the  service  of  the  j)ublic, 
that  public  should  for  the  future  be  at  the  charge  of  my  support." 
This  tranquillity  of  mind,  which  could  sport  with  the  danger  of 
his  situation,  served  only  to  exasperate  his  judges.  He  was  sen- 
tenced, after  an  imprisonment  of  thirty  days,  to  drink  the  juice  of 
hemlock.  That  time  he  sjjcnt  as  became  the  hero  and  the  philo- 
sopher. His  friends  had  jjrepared  the  means  of  his  escape,  and 
earnestly  endeavored  to  persuade  him  to  attempt  it ;  but  he  con- 
'vinced  them  that  it  is  a  crime  to  violate  the  law,  even  where  its 
sentence  is  unjust.  On  the  day  of  his  death  he  discoursed  with 
uncommon  force  of  eloquence  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  on 
the  influence  that  persuasion  ought  to  have  on  the  conduct  of  life, 
and  on  the  comfort  it  diffused  on  the  last  moments  of  existence. 
He  drank  the  poisoned  cup  without  the  smallest  emotion  ;  and, 
in  the  agony  of  dea.h,  showed  to  his  attentling  friends  an  example 
of  tranquillity  which  their  deep-felt  grief  denied  them  all  power  of 
imitating.  The  narrative  of  this  concluding  scene,  as  it  is  given 
by  Plato  in  his  dialogue  entitled  Phsdon,  is  one  of  the  noblest 
specimens  of  simple,  eloquent,  and  pathetic  description  which 
is  any  where  to  be  met  with  ;  a  narrative,  to  the  force  of  which 
Cicero  bears  this  strong  testimony,  that  he  never  could  read  it 
without  tears.  Such  was  the  end  of  this  true  philosopher,  of 
whom  his  ungrateful  countrymen  knew  not  the  value  till  they  had 
destroyed  him.  It  was  time  now  to  awake  to  shame  and  to 
remorse,  and  to  express  their  sorrow  for  his  death  by  the  utmost 
abhorrence  for  his  persecutors.  These  met  with  their  .deserved 
punishment ;  but  the  reproach  was  indelibly  fixed  upon  the  char- 
acter of  the  Athenians,  and  no  contrition  could  wipe  it  out. 

The  military  character  of  the  Greeks  was  not  yet  extinguished, 
notwithstanding  their  national  corruption.  In  the  same  year  with 
tlie  last-mentioned   event,  a  part  of  the   Grecian   troops   in   Asia 


en.   n.j  THE    TEX    THOCSAND.  157 

signalized    ihemselvos    by  one    of  the    most    remarkable    exj)Ioit« 
recorded  in  history  :  this  was  the  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand. 

On  the  death  of  Darius  Nothiis,  his  eldest  son  Artaxerxea 
Mnemon  succeeded  to  the  empire,  while  his  brother  Cyrus  was 
by  their  father's  will  invested  with  the  government  of  Lydia  ai.d 
several  of  the  adjoining  provinces.  Tiie  ambition  of  this  young 
man  early  conceived  the  criminal  project  of  dethroning  his  elder 
brother,  and  seizing  u]3on  the  throne  of  Persia  ;  but  though  his 
design  was  detected,  he  obtained  his  j)ardon  from  Artaxerxes, 
upon  the  entreaties  of  Parysatis,  the  queen-mother,  and  with  a 
singular  measure  of  generosity  was  even  continued  in  the  full 
command  of  his  provinces.  This  humane  indulgence  he  treach- 
erously abused,  by  secretly  levying  a  large  army  in  diffei-ent 
quarters  of  the  lesser  Asia,  under  the  feigned  pretence  of  restrain- 
ing some  of  the  disorderly  satraps,  but  in  reality  with  the  purjiose 
of  a  sudden  attack  against  his  unprepared  and  unsus|)ecting  brother. 
In  the  army  of  Cyrus  were  a  chosen  body  of  13,000  Greeks 
from  the  Peloponnesus,  under  the  command  of  Clearchus,  a 
Lacedsemonian,  an  officer  of  great  experience  and  prowess,  to 
whom  alone  of  all  his  captains  Cyrus  confided  the  nature  and 
object  of  his  enterprise.  It  was  with  infinite  address  upon  the 
part  of  Clearchus,  that  the  Greeks,  together  with  the  rest  of  the 
army,  were  led  on  from  ))rovince  to  province  till  they  came  within 
a  few  days'  march  of  Babylon,  where  Cyrus  at  length  imparted 
to  them  the  purpose  of  the  expedition,  and  reconciled  them  to  its 
hazards  by  a  large  increase  of  present  pay  and  an  assurance  of 
unbounded  rewards  in  the  event  of  final  success.  But  this  they 
were  not  destined  to  expewence.  In  a  decisiv^e  engagement  at 
Cunaxa,  in  the  plain  between  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  the  Greeks 
put  to  flight  that  wing  of  the  Persian  army  which  was  opposed  to 
them.  Cyrus,  after  the  most  extraordinary  exertions  of  personal 
valor,  espying  Artaxcrxes  amidst  the  strong  body  of  his  guards, 
singlofl  him  out  for  his  attack,  and  after  twice  wounding  his  brother 
and  dismounting  him  from  his  horse,  fell  himself  a  victim  by  the 
hand  of  Artaxerxes,  who  j)ierced  him  to  the  heart  with  his  javel'n. 
Thus  this  ambitious  youth,  who  seems  to  have  been  in  other  re* 
spects  an  accomplished  and  heroic  character,  met  with  his  deserved 
fate.  It  is  surprising  that  Xcnophon,  who  has  admirably  written 
the  history  of  this  expedition,  should  have  bestowed  the  most  un- 
bounded encomium  on  this  prince,  without  the  smallest  censure  of 
his  most  culpable  enterprise. 

The  Greek  army,  diminished  by  its  losses  and  by  desertions  to 
10,000  men,  made  a  most  amazing  retreat.  Harassed  by  the 
Persian  troops  under  Tissaphernes,  who  hung  continually  upon 
their  rear,  Clearchus  brought  them  again  to  a  pitched  battle,  in 
which  the  Greeks  defeated  the  barbarians  a  second  time  and  put 
their  army  to  flight.  Perceiving,  liowever,  that  in  a  country  o^ 
enemies,  where  they  must  fight  at  every  step  of  their  progress, 


f58  UNIVERSAL    HISTORT.  [roOK    II 

tlipy  must  porisli,  even  ihoiigli  victorious  in  every  artlon,  Clearcliin 
\villiii!^Iy  listened  to  a  [jroposed  afconiniocialion  with  Tissapliernes, 
vvlio  invited  liitn  for  thai  purpose,  together  with  the  rest  of  ilie 
Greek  commanders,  to  a  friendly  conferenc  e.  With  f:rcat  weak- 
ness, Clearchus  and  four  of  the  principal  o/Ticcrs  repaired  to  the 
enemy's  camp,  attended  by  a  very  slender  escort.  They  had  no 
sooner  entered  the  tent  of  Tissaj)herne3  than,  upon  a  given  signal, 
they  were  all  massacred.  The  consternation  of  the  Greeks  at  this 
horrihie  treachery  \vas  extreme.  They  saw  that  they  had  nothing 
to  trust  either  to  the  faith  or  mercy  of  the  barbarians,  and  that 
thtir  only  safety  lay  at  the  point  of  their  swords.  In  a  midnight 
consultaiion  of  the  troops,  Xenophon,  then  a  young  man  and  in 
no  high  command,  took  u|)on  him  to  counsel  and  to  harangue  the 
despairing  army.  By  his  ad\ice  they  immediately  chose  new 
generals  in  the  room  of  those  who  had  perished,  and  Xenophon 
himself,  with  four  others,  being  invested  with  this  imjjortant 
charge,  his  adniirable  conduct,  perseverance,  and  valor,  brought 
liis  countrymen  at  length  safely  through  all  their  difliculties.  They 
began  by  burning  all  their  useless  baggage,  every  man  retaining 
3nly  what  was  absolutely  necessary  for  the  march-  They  pro- 
ceeded with  indefatigable  resolution  and  almost  daily  conflicts 
.vith  the  enemy,  ignorant  of  the  roads  and  of  the  defiles,  crossing 
•vide  and  dangerous  rivers,  and  often  breast-deep  in  the  snow,  to 
make  their  way  through  the  mountainous  country  eastward  of 
Mesopotamia,  to  Armenia  and  the  fartlier  province?  bordering 
upon  the  Euxine.  Ascending  a  steep  mountain  on  the  borders  of 
Colchis,  the  \anguard  of  the  army  set  up  a  prodigious  shout, 
which  Xenophon,  in  the  rear,  supposed  to  be  the  signal  of  a  sud- 
den attack  from  the  enemy,  and  urged  on  the  main  body  with 
haste  to  the  summit ;  when, .to  their  inexpressible  joy,  they  found 
it  was  the  first  sight  of  the  sea  which  had  occasioned  this  excla- 
mation. \\'iih  one  sudden  and  sympathetic  emotion,  the  soldiers 
and  commanders  rushed  into  each  other's  arms  and  shed  a  torrent 
of  teais  ;  and  then,  without  any  order,  each  man  striving  to  outdo 
his  fellow,  they  raised  an  immense  pile  of  stones  upon  the  spot, 
which  they  crowned  with  broken  buc1<lers  and  spoils  they  had 
taken  from  the  enemy.  Arriving  soon  after  at  Trapezus,  a  Greek 
colony  upon  the  Euxine,  they  celebrated  splendid  games  with 
great  joy  and  festivity  for  the  space  of  several  days  ;  and  finnlly 
embarking  at  Sinope,  after  manv  turns  of  fortune  and  various 
adventures  in  the  course  of  their  progress  homewards,  this  eventful 
expedition,  in  which  the  Grecian  army  traversed  a  space  of  1155 
leagues,  was  terminated  in  the  course  of  fifteen  months. 

The  narrative  of  this  expedition  by  Xenophon  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  compositions  tiiat  remain  to  us  of  antiquitv.  In  the  form 
of  a  journal  it  gives  a  nnnnte  detail  of  every  day's  transactions,  the 
counsels,  plans,  and  dilTerent  opinions  of  the  principal  ofTicers,  a 
vivid  description  of  the  places,  cities,  rivers,  ajid  mountains,  upou 


CH     II. J  SPAKIA PERSIA.  159 

the  line  of  march;  the  i-roductions  of  the  difTercnt  countries  ;  the 
singular  manners  of  ni.VyV  of  the  rude  nations  through  which  they 
passed  ;  and,  finally,  t'^e  extraordinary  incidents  which  befell  this 
hardy  and  resolute  t^nd  of  adventurers,  through  every  stage  of  a 
campaign  of  greaf.r/  o-jvation,  dilhculty,  and  danger  than  was  ever 
performed  by  any  r.rmy  of  ancient  or  of  modern  times.  In  fine, 
the  Jlnabasis  of  Xc"io})hon,  with  the  veracity  of  genuine  hisiory, 
has  al!  the  caVxYtts  of  an  interesting  romance. 

The  c\(if,=,  of  !on:a  luul  taken  jiart  with  the  younger  Cyrus  against 
Artaxerxcs.  The  greater  part  of  the  Greeks  in  the  service  of 
Cyrus  ;n  tlir.t  expedition  were,  as  we  have  seen,  Laccda^ir.onians. 
Sparta  was  new  engaged  to  defend  her  countrymen,  and  consequenl- 
ly  was  involved  in  a  war  with  Persia.  There  was  an  inherent 
weakness  in  the  constitution  of  the  Persian  monarchy,  arising  from 
the  high  power  and  almost  supreme  authority  exercised  by  the 
satraps,  or  governors  of  the  provinces.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  how 
formidable  to  the  monarch  of  Persia  must  have  been  the  confederacy 
of  two  or  three  of  these  satraps,  and  of  consequence  that  it  was  his 
chief  interest  to  keep  them  disunited  by  fomenting  mutual  jealousies 
The  state  maxim  of  the  Persian  kings  was,  therefore,  to  divide,  in 
order  to  command  ;  a  rule  of  policy  which  is  a  certain  proof  of  the 
fundamental  weakness  of  that  government  where  it  is  necessary  to 
adopt  it.  In  Persia,  the  satraps  might,  by  this  management,  be 
kept  in  a  slate  of  unwilling  de])cndence  on  the  crown,  but  it  leli  the 
monarchy  itself  weak  and  defenceless. 

Had  the  Greeks  at  this  period  been  sensible  of  their  real  inter- 
est ;  had  they  again  united  as  a  nation,  making  Sparta  the  head  of 
the  confederacy,  as  in  the  former  war  with  that  power  they  had 
done  Athens,  it  would  not  have  I)een  a  difficult  enterprise  to  have 
overthrown  this  vast  em])ire.  But  experience  docs  not  always 
enlighten  ;  and  with  the  Greeks  it  was  not  easy  for  a  sense  ol  gen- 
eral or  national  advantage  to  overcome  particular  jealousies.  The 
haughty  Athenians,  in  spile  of  their  humiliation,  would  have  ill 
brooked  ths  degradation  of  ranging  themselves  under  the  banntns 
of  Sparta  ;  much  less  was  it  to  be  expected  that  the  Spartans,  just- 
ly elevated  with  their  success  in  the  Peloponnesian  war,  woulil  ever 
again  stoop  to  act  a  subordinate  part  to  Athens. 

Conon,  the  Athenian,  who,  in  the  conclusion  of  that  war  had  lt)st 
the  d(^cisive  battle  o^  JEgos-Polamoi^^  had  retired  to  the  isle  of  Cy- 
prus, whore  he  only  wailed  an  opportunity  of  regaining  his  credit, 
and  recommending  himself  to  his  country  by  some  active  service 
against  her  rival,  Sparta.  In  this  view,  he  threw  himself  under  the 
protection  of  Arlaxerxes,  who  gave  him  the  command  of  a  fleet 
which  he  had  equipped  in^Phronicia. 

The  LacedxMuonians,  on  receiving  this  intelligence,  resolved  to 
prosecute  the  war  with  the  utmost  vigor  ;  and  Agesilaus,  one  of  (he 
Spartan  kings,  in  that  view  crossed  into  Asia  with  an  arn.y.  He 
had,   in   his   first  campaign,  such  signal  success,  that  the   Pcrsiao 


160      *  UNUEl.JAL    lll:)l'Oin.  (^DOOK    11 

monarrliy  socnioil  I.)  tlircalfn  a  rcvoliilion.  Tlio  Asiatic  prDvinrcs 
becan  to  court  tlic;  alliance  of  Lacc(Ja.inoii  ;  llic  barbariaii-s  flocked 
lo  her  standards  from  all  (juarlers  Ariaxcrxcs  llionj:lit  it  advisable 
to  att(Mii])t  a  diversion  in  Greoce.  He  cnij)loyed  Timocrates,  a 
Rlunlian,  to  negotiate  with  some  of  llie  tributary  states  belonging  lo 
Lace(KTnion,  and  to  excite  them  to  throw  ofl'  her  yoke,  and  assert 
their  independence.  He  found  the  most  of  them  well-disposed  to 
this  attempt,  and  a  proper  application  of  the  Persian  gold  hastened 
their  insurrection.  A  league  was  formed  against  S])arla  by  the 
states  of  Argos,  Thebes,  and  Corinth  ;  and  Alliens  soon  after 
joined  the  confederacy,  which  gave  a  sudden  turn  to  the  fortunes  of 
Lace(la?mon. 

The  Spartans  raised  two  considerable  armies,  and  commenced 
hostilities  by  entering  the  territory  of  Phocis.  They  were 
defeated  ;  Lysander,  one  of  their  generals,  being  killed  in  battle, 
and  Pausanias,  the  other,  condemned  to  death  for  his  misconduct. 
Much  about  the  same  lime,  the  Persian  fleet  under  the  command 
of  Conon  vanquished  that  of  Sj)arta,  near  Cnidos,  a  city  of  Caiia. 
This  defeat  deprived  the  Lacedaemonians  of  the  command  of  the 
sea.  Their  allies  took  the  opportunity  of  this  turn  of  afiairs  to 
throw  off  their  yoke,  and  Sparta,  almost  in  a  single  campaign,  saw 
herself  without  allies,  without  power,  and  without  resources.  The 
reverse  of  fortune  experienced  by  this  republic  was  truly  remark- 
able. Twenty  years  had  not  elapsed  since  she  was  absolute 
mistress  of  Greece,  and  held  the  whole  of  her  states  either  as 
iributaries  or  allies,  who  found  it  their  highest  interest  to  court  her 
favor  and  protection.  So  changed  was  her  present  situation,  that 
the  most  inconsiderable  of  the  slates  of  Peloponnesus  spurned  at 
her  authority,  and  left  her  singly  lo  oppose  the  united  power  of 
Persia  and  the  league  of  Greece. 

To  escape  total  destruction,  the  Laced^iuonians  made  an  over- 
ture of  peace  to  the  Persians.  Anlalcidas,  commissioned  for  that 
purpose,  a])plied  lo  Terebasus,  die  governor  of  Lydia.  He  laid 
before  him  three  articles  as  the  conditions  of  amity  and  alliance. 
By  the  first,  the  Spartans  abandoned  to  Persia  all  the  As.'atic 
colonies  ;  by  the  second,  it  was  proposed  that  all  the  allied  siaies 
of  Greece  should  enjoy  their  liberty,  and  the  choice  of  their  owh 
laws  and  form  of  government ;  and  by  the  last,  it  was  agreed  that 
such  of  the  stales  as  might  acquiesce  in  these  conditions  should 
unite  in  arms,  and  compel  the  others  to  accede  to  them.  Arta- 
xerxes  accepted  these  propositions,  but  stipulated  further,  that  he 
should  be  put  in  possession  of  Cyprus  and  Clazomene,  and  that 
the  Athenians  should  get  possession  of  the  islands  of  Scyros, 
Lemnos,  and  Imbros.  Some  of  the  principal  states  of  Greece, 
and  Thebes  in  particular,  refused  at  first  to  consent  to  this,  which 
they  justly  regarded  as  a  humiliating  treaty  ;  but,  too  weak  tc 
make  an  efll^clual  opposition,  they  yielded  to  the  necessity  of  tliei, 
situation. 


CH.    III.1  THEBES.  161 


CHAPTER  III. 


IIkpdbi.ic  of  TnEKES — Pelopidas  and  Epaminondas — Baltle  of  Leuciri— of 
Manlinoa — General  Peace  and  its  consequences — Philip  of  Mncedon — The 
Sacred  War — Demosthenes — Baltle  of  Chaeronea — Designs  of  Philip  a^ina\ 
Persia — His  death.  , 

While  the  two  great  republics  of  Greece,  Sparta  and  Athens, 
were  thus  visibly  tending  to  decline,  another  of  the  Grecian  com 
nionwealths,  which  had  hitherto  made  no  conspicuous  figure,  now 
suddenly  rose  to  a  degree  of  splendor  which  eclipsed  all  her  con- 
temporary states.  This  was  the  republic  of  Thebes,  whose 
sudden  elevation  from  obscurity  to  the  command  of  Greece  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  occurrences  in  history. 

As  Sparta,  by  the  late  treaty  with  Persia,  seemed  to  be  regarded 
as  the  predominant  power  in  Greece,  and  to  have  neiotiatcd  (as 
it  may  be  termed)  the  fall  of  the  nation,  she  was  naturally  induced 
to  endeavor  by  ever}''  means  to  maintain  this  character  of  ascen- 
dency, and  for  that  end  had  her  partisans  and  political  agents  in  all 
the  principal  states.  The  natural  consequence  of  this  policy  was 
to  excite  and  maintain  in  all  of  them  two  separate  factions  ;  the  one 
the  patriotic  supporters  of  liberty  and  independence,  and  the  other 
the  mean  slaves  of  Lacedrcmonian  interest.  Such,  among  the  rest, 
was,  at  this  time,  the  situation  of  Thebes.  The  patriotic  party  in 
this  republic  which  supported  its  ancient  constitution  and  inde- 
jiendonce,  was  headed  by  Ismenias  ;  while  the  0])posite  faction, 
wliich  aimed  at  the  establishment  of  an  oligarchy,  had  for  its  chief 
supporter  Leontiades,  a  man  firmly  devoted  to  the  interest  of 
Sparta.  It  happened,  at  this  time,  that  Pluncbidas,  a  Lacedajnio- 
nian  general,  was  sent  with  an  army  to  punish  the  people  of 
Olynthus,  a  Thracian  city,  for  an  alleged  infraction  of  the  late 
treaty  of  peace,  by  making  conquests  over  some  of  the  neigh- 
boring states.  The  Spartans  considered  themselves  as  the  guaran- 
tees of  that  treaty  which  they  had  so  main  a  hand  in  negotiating, 
and  which  professed  to  secure  the  independence  of  the  several 
republics.  We  shall  see  how  faithfully  they  discharged  this 
guarantee.  Leontiades,  the  head  of  the  party  of  the  oligarchy  at 
Theb.>s,  prevailed  on  Pha^bidas  to  second  his  attempts  against  the 
liberties  of  his  country.  The  Spartan  general  readilv  gave  his 
aid,  and  introducing  his  army,  took  possession  of  the  citadel  ; 
while  the  unsuspicious  Thebans,  trusting  to  the  faith  of  the  treaty, 
were  employed  in  celebrating  the  festival  of  Ceres.  Ismeniui", 
vol  .1.  21 


162  UNIVEnSAL    HISTORY.  [OOOK  II. 

t))o  chief  of  ilie  (leinonatic  interest,  was  seized  and  j)iit  to  death; 
and  the  principal  men  of  his  party  escaped  with  j)recii)ilation  from 
tlie  city. 

Tlic  conduct  of  the  Spartans,  in  this  juncture,  sliovvs  how 
unequal  is  the  conflict  between  virtue  and  self-interest.  Tliey 
acknowledged  it  an  act  of  treason  in  Leontiades  to  have  thus 
betrayed  his  country,  and  they  reprobated  the  conduct  of  Phsbidas 
in  giving  his  aid  to  a  measure  which  was  a  direct  infraction  of 
a  national  treaty  ;  but  being  now  masters  of  Thebes,  they  did  not 
choose  to  abandon  their  acquisition.  This  shameful  conduct  was 
justly  censured  by  all  Greece.  Four  hundred  of  the  chief  citizens 
of  Thebes  had  fled  for  protection  to  Athens.  Among  these  was 
Pelopidas,  the  avenger  and  deliverer  of  his  country.  Maintaining 
a  regular  intelligence  with  such  of  the  citizens  as  were  friends  to 
the  cause  of  justice  and  patriotism,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  the 
great  Epaminondas,  a  plan  was  concerted  for  the  recovery  of 
Thebes,  which  succeeded  to  the  utmost  of  their  wishes.  Pelopi- 
das, with  eleven  of  his  friends  in  the  disguise  of  peasants,  entered 
the  city  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  joined  the  rest  of  the  con- 
spirators in  the  house  of  a  principal  citizen,  of  the  name  of  Charon. 
Philldas,  who  acted  as  secretary  to  the  polemarchs  or  chief  magis- 
trates of  Thebes,  was,  secretly,  a  steady  friend  to  the  design  ; 
and  had  purposely  invited  the  chiefs  of  the  oligarchy,  and  the 
])rincipal  of  the  Spartan  conmianders,  to  a  magnificent  supper  at 
his  house  ;  where,  as  a  part  of  the  entertainment,  he  promised  to 
regale  his  guests  with  the  company  of  some  of  the  handsomest  of 
the  Theban  courtesans.  While  the  guests,  warm  with  wine, 
eagerly  called  for  the  introduction  of  the  ladies,  a  courier  arrived 
from  Athens,  and  brought  a  letter  to  Archias,  the  chief  governor, 
desiring  it  to  be  instantly  read,  as  containing  important  business. 
"  This  is  no  time,  "  said  the  voluptuary,  "  to  trouble  us  with  busi- 
ness: we  shall  consider  of  that  to-morrow."  This  letter  contained 
a  full  discovery  of  the  plot.  Meantime,  Pelopidas  and  his  com- 
panions, dressed  in  female  attire,  entered  the  hall,  and  each  draw- 
ing a  dagger  from  under  his  robe,  massacred  the  governor  and  the 
wliole  of  the  Spartan  officers,  before  they  had  time  to  stand  upon 
their  defence.  The  principal  of  their  enemies  thus  despatched, 
they  entered  the  houses  of  several  others  whom  they  knew  to  be 
Hostile  to  their  purpose,  and  put  them  likewise  to  death.  Such 
were  the  transactions  of  this  busy  night.  But  a  strong  garrison  of 
1500  Spartans  were  in  possession  of  the  citadel.  Fortunately,  a 
Dody  of  5000  foot  and  2000  horse,  despatched  from  Athens, 
arrived  early  next  morning  to  the  aid  of  Pelopidas.  Ejjaminondas 
called  to  arms  all  the  citizens  who  wished  the  deliverance  of  their 
country,  and  put  himself  at  their  head  :  the  associated  troops  laid 
siege  to  the  citadel  ;  and  in  a  very  short  time,  the  Spartans,  seeing 
all  resistance  vain,  agreed  to  open  the  gates  and  save  the  etfusion 
of  blood  by  instantly  evacuating  Thebes.      The    capitulation  was 


CH.   HI.]  BATTLE    OF    LEUCTRA.  163 

agreed  to;  and  Pelopidas  and  Epamlnondas  were  liailed  the  deliv- 
erers of  tlieir  country.* 

Thebes  was  now  necessarily  involved  in  a  war  with  Sparta;  but 
she  had  the  assistance  of  Alliens.  With  this  respectable  aid  she 
was,  perhaps,  a  match  for  her  powerful  antagonist,  but  she  did  not 
long  enjoy  the  advantage  of  that  alliance:  Persia,  which  since  the 
last  peace  had  acquired  a  title  to  mediate  in  the  affairs  of  Greece, 
brought  about  an  overture  of  accommodation  between  the  contend- 
ing states.  All  articles  were  agreed  upon,  when  a  small  punctilio 
exasperated  the  Thebans.  They  could  not  bear  that  their  name 
should  be  classed  among  ihe  inferior  states  of  Greece;  and  Sparts 
was  determined  that  it  should.  Neither  party  would  yield,  and 
Thebes  was  entirely  struck  but  of  the  treaty,  which  was  acceded  to 
by  all  the  other  republics. 

Thus  the  Thebans  stood  alone,  in  opposition  to  the  longue  of 
Greece:  but  Epaminondas  and  Pelopidas  were  their  generals.  The 
battle  of  Leuctra  showed  how  much  may  be  achieved  by  the  patri- 
otic exertions  and  abilities  of  a  few  distinguished  individuals.  The 
Theban  army,  amounting  only  to  6000  men,  commanded  by  Epam- 
inondas, entirely  defeated  25,000  Lacedaemonians,  and  loft  4000, 
with  their  king,  Cleombrotus,  dead  upon  the  field.  By  the  law  of 
Sparta,  all  who  fled  from  the  enemy  were  doomed  to  suffer  a 
capital  punishment;  but  Agesilaus  prudently  sus])ended  the  law  for 
a  single  day:  the  Spartans,  otherwise,  must  have  lost  their  whole 
army. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  when  the  news  of  this  great  defeat  reached 
Lacedasmon,  the  citizens  were  engaged  in  celebrating  the  public 
games,  and  an  immense  concourse  of  strangers  attended  that  solem- 
nity. The  fatal  intelligence  spread  a  general  alarm;  but  the  Ephori, 
with  admirable  presence  of  mind,  ordered  the  games  to  proceed 
without  interruption.  The  best  method  of  blunting  the  edge  of 
misfortune  is  to  brave  it.  The  parents  and  relations  of  those  who 
had  fallen  in  battle  went,  next  day,  in  solemn  procession,  to  thank 
the  gods  that  their  sons  had  died  in  the  bed  of  glory:  while  the 
relatives  of  those  who  had  escaped,  were  overwhelmed  with  shame 
ai  d  affliction. 

The  petty  states  of  Greece  always  took  part  with  a  victorious 
power.  Epaminondas,  determined  to  push  his  success,  and  to 
penetrate  into  Lacouia,  foimd  his  little  army  speedily  increased  to 
70,000  men.     With  this  force  he  might  have  razed  Lacedaemon 


*  In  this  accnnnt  of  tho  rnvohilinn  nf  Tlipbfs,  I  linvo  follnwfd  tho  niithority  of 
Plutarch  in  proforonce  to  that  of  Xonophon,  tlionph,  in  penorai,  I  admit  tlint  the 
credit  of  the  latter  is  hifrher  than  lliat  of  tlic  former.  Hut  Xenophon,  with  all  his 
talents  and  virtues,  was  a  man  of  stronrr  |)re]iidires  ;  of  which  there  cniiiiot  be  a 
more  strikinrr  example  than  this  very  narrative,  in  the  whole  of  which  he  never 
once  mentions  the  name  of  either  Pelopidas  or  I^paminondas,  to  wiiom,  not  only 
Plutarch,  but  the  general  voice  of  tlie  ancient  authors,  has  attributed  the  principal 
agency  in  this  revolution. 


KM  UNIVKIISAI.    IIISTORV.  [bOOK    II 

to  ilio  j^rotiiid,  ;iii(l  .'ibolislicd  tl)o  Spartan  nanir:  hiil  lie  was  satisfied 
will)  iKiviiii;  checked  their  insolence  and  pfrfidy;  and  ho  rctnrned 
to  Tiiel)e.s,  after  havinj;  rebuih  the  city  of  Mci;alopoiis,  where  he 
colleciod  the  Arcadians,  and  roijcopiod  Messenc,  from  which  the 
Spartans  had  driven  out  the  inlial)itanis;  tiuis  re-cstabhshing,  almost 
under  the  walls  of  Sparta,  two  of  her  ancient  and  most  inveterate 
enemies. 

The  liistory  of  the  Grecian  states  affords  too  many  examples 
that,  under  a  constitution  purely  democratic,  the  public  mind  is  so 
fickle  that  the  highest  efforts  of  virtue  and  patriotism  are  more 
frequcniJv  repaid  with  ingratitude  than  wiih  the  rewards  of  honor 
and  popidarity.  Kpaminondas  and  P(>lopidas,  on  their  return  to 
Thebes,  were  accused  of  having  retained  their  command  four 
months  beyond  the  term  of  their  commissions,  while  engaged  in 
the  Peloponnesian  expedition.  This,  on  the  specious  pretext  of  a 
strict  regard  to  military  duty,  was  adjudged  to  be  a  capital  offence, 
and  the  people  were  on  the  point  of  condemning  to  death  those 
men  who  had  not  only  rescued  their  country  from  servitude,  but 
raised  the  Theban  name  to  the  highest  pitch  of  glory.  Epaminon- 
das  undertook  to  defend  the  conduct  of  Pelopidas  by  taking  the 
whole  blanie  upon  himself.  "I  was,"  said  he,  "the  author  of 
those  measures  for  which  we  stand  here  accused.  I  had  indulged  a 
hope  that  the  signal  success  which,  under  our  conduct,  has  attended 
the  Theban  arms,  would  have  entitled  us  to  the  gratitude,  and  not  to 
the  censure  of  our  country.  Well!  let  posterity,  then,  be  informed 
of  our  crimes  and  of  our  punishment.  Let  it  be  known  that  Epam- 
inondas  led  your  troo])s  into  the  heart  of  Laconia,  which  no  hostile 
power  till  then  had  ever  penetrated  ;  that  his  crime  was  that  he 
abased  the  glory  of  Sparta,  and  brought  her  to  the  brink  of  ruin; 
that  he  made  Thebes  the  most  illustrious  of  die  Grecian  states;  let 
it  be  inscribed  on  his  tomb,  that  death  was  the  reward  which  his 
country  decreed  for  these  services."  The  Thebans  were  ashamed 
of  their  own  conduct;  the  judges  dismissed  the  charge,  and  the 
people  atoned  for  their  ingratitude  by  the  strongest  expressions  of 
praise  and  admiration. 

Yet  tliis  rectitude  of  feeling  was  only  temporary.  All  the 
states  of  Peloponnesus  supported  by  Thebes  were  at  war  with 
Sparta.  The  other  republics,  however,  and  principally  Athens, 
were  inflamed  with  jealousy  of  the  Theban  power,  and,  uniting 
in  a  league  to  curb  its  ascendency,  they  applied  for  aid  from  Per- 
sia. To  counteract  this  cooperation  the  Thebans  sent  Pelopidas 
to  Artaxerxes,  who  convinced  him  that  it  was  more  for  his  real 
interest  to  countenance  and  support  their  infant  power,  which 
could  give  no  jealousy  or  alarm  to  his  empire,  than  to  add  weight 
to  those  great  republics,  which  had  always  been  at  variance  with 
him.  Artaxerxes  declared  himself  the  ally  of  Thebes.  The 
Greek  ambassadors  were  all  dismissed,  loaded  with  magnificent 
presents;  Pelopidas  alone  refused  them.     In  the  assembly  of  the 


CH.   III.]  MACEDONIA.  165 

people  at  Athens,  a  porter  ludicrously  proposed  that^  instead  of 
nine  annual  archons,  they  should  elect  nine  ambassadors  of  the 
poorest  of  the  people,  and  send  them  every  year  to  Persia. 

Epaminondas,  at  this  time,  made  another  descent  upon  Pelo- 
ponnesus, when  he  was  opposed  by  the  Spartans,  the  Athenians, 
and  Corinthians.  He  was  at  first  successful,  but,  overpowered  at 
last  and  obliged  to  retreat,  he  returned  to  Thebes,  where  his  ill 
fortune  was  construed  into  treason,  and  he  was  deprived  of  all 
command.  We  shall  presently  see  his  fickle  countrymen  once 
more  disposed  to  rate  his  services  at  their  true  value. 

Macedonia,  a  few  years  before  this  period,  was  in  a  state  of 
civil  war,  from  the  quarrels  for  sovereignty  which  arose  between 
the  two  sons  of  Amyntas,  upon  the  death  of  their  father.  The 
Macedonians  solicited  aid  from  the  Thebans  to  compose  the  disor- 
ders of  their  country,  and  Pelopidas  was  for  that  purpose  sent 
thither  w-ith  an  army.  He  effected  the  object  of  his  mission  by 
placing  Perdiccas  on  the  throne  of  JMacedonia,  and  he  carried 
with  him  to  Thebes,  Philip,  the  brother  of  Perdiccas,  with  thirty 
of  the  young  nobility,  as  hostages  for  the  security  of  this  settle- 
ment. This  was  Philip,  afterwards  the  King  of  Macedon,  and 
father  of  Alexander  the  Great ;  a  youth  who  so  profitably  employ- 
ed his  time  In  the  study  of  the  art  of  war  under  those  two  able 
masters,  Pelopidas  and  Epaminondas,  that  from  them  he  acquired 
that  military  knowledge  which  afterwards  proved  so  fatal  to  the 
liberties  of  Greece. 

The  people  of  Thessaly,  alarmed  at  the  ambitious  designs  of 
Alexander,  the  tyrant  of  Pherie,  who  aimed  at  reducing  the  whole 
states  under  his  own  dominion,  solicited  the  aid  of  the  Thebans  to 
protect  their  liberties.  The  Thebans  complied  with  their  request, 
and  Pelopidas,  sent  into  Thessaly  as  an  ambassador,  to  hear  the 
subject  of  complaint,  and  to  mediate  on  the  part  of  Thebes,  was,  in 
contempt  of  the  law  of  nations,  seized  by  Alexander  and  thrown 
into  jirison.  The  Thebans  justly  resenting  this  gross  outrage,  sent 
an  army  against  the  tyrant,  and  Epaminondas,  eager  to  cooperate  in 
the  delivery  of  his  friend  Pelopidas,  but  debarred  by  the  late  decree 
fiotn  all  military  command,  joined  hiuiself  as  a  private  soldier  to  the 
expedition.  The  Thei)an  forces  were  encountered  in  the  field  by  an 
army  greatly  superior  in  numbers  ;  and  such  was  the  pusillanimity 
of  iheir  generals,  that  they  were  on  the  point  of  making  an  igno- 
minious retreat,  when  the  spirit  of  the  troops  was  roused  by  the 
strong  feeling  of  impending  disgrace.  They  compelled  their 
generals  to  yield  the  command  to  Epaminondas,  who  very  speedily 
turned  the  fortune  of  the  day,  and,  afier  rei)ulsiiig  the  tyrant, 
obliged  him  to  offer  terms  of  acconmiodaiion,  of  which  the  first 
condition  was  the  release  aiid  restitution  of  Pelopidas.  This  signal 
service  of  Epaminondas,  though  performed,  as  we  have  seen,  at 
the  ex])ense  of  a  new  infringement  of  military  duty,  the  very 
offence    for  which  he  had    lately  so    severely  suffered,  was    now 


IGG  UNIVEUSAL    IIISIOKY.  [bOOK    II 

rewarded  hy  the  universal  applause  of  liis  country,  and  a  complete 
reinstalc'iiienL  in  all  his  foriner  lienors  and  p()j)ularily. 

Pelopidas  had  no  sooner  rccovxued  his  liberiy  than  he  resolved 
to  wreak  his  vengeance  against  the  tyrant  of  Phera;.  At  the  head 
of  a  new  expedition  for  this  purpose,  he  encountered  Alexander 
at  Cynoccphala:,  and  gave  hiin  a  complete  defeat ;  but  eager  to 
engage  the  tyrant,  whom  he  challenged  to  single  combat  in  the 
field,  he  unwarily  exposed  himself  to  a  shower  of  javelins  from  the 
enemy,  and  fell  pierced  with  numberless  wounds.  The  Thebans 
justly  considered  their  victory  as  dearly  j)urchased  by  the  loss  of 
this  most  brave  and  virtuous  citizen.  Tiie  Thebans  and  Thes£a- 
lonians  jointly  performed  his  funeral  obsequies  with  the  most  dis- 
tinguished pomp  and  magnificence.  The  tyrant  of  Phcraj  was 
soon  after  assassinated  by  his  wife  and  her  brothers,  who  avenged 
by  this  blow  their  own  and  their  country's  injuries. 

A  new  war  now  bioke  out   between    Thebes  and    Sparta,  on 
account  of  a  quarrel   between    the  Te^ans  and  Mantineans,  the 
former  protected  by  the  Thebans,  the  latter  by  the  Lacedaemonians 
and  Athenians.      Epaminondas  made  another  attempt  upon  Lace- 
daemon,  which  owed  its  preservation  to  the  conduct  and  bravery 
ofAgesilaus.     The  Theban  general,  on  receiving  intelligence  that 
the  best  of  the  Spartan  troops,  with  Agesiiaus  at  their  head,  were 
on  their  marcli  to  Mantinea,  judged  this  a  most  seasonable  oppor- 
tunity for  an  attack  on  Sparta,  which,  having  no  walls,  he  expected 
to  seize  in  the  night  without  any  opposition.     Agesiiaus,  however, 
getting  a  hint  of  his  design,  had  just  time  to  apprise  the  city  of  its 
danger,  and  the  Thebans  had  already  penetrated  into  the  heart  of 
it;  when,  to  the  surprise  of  Epaminondas,  he  found  himself  vigor 
ously  attacked  by  Agesiiaus  himself  and  his  brave  son,  Archidamus, 
with  the  flower  of  the  Spartan  youth,  who  displayed  the  greatest 
courage  in  making  head  against  the  invaders.     The  Thebans  were 
now   forced   to    make    a   precipitate    retreat.     This    unsuccessful 
enterprise  was  the  more  galling  to  Epaminondas,  that  the  term  of 
his  military  connnand   was  just  about  to   expire.     He  earnestly 
wished    to  compensate    for  his    failure    by  some    splendid   stroke 
against  the  enemy.     The  Spartan  troops,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
been    suddenly   called    off  from    Mantinea    to    defend   their  city. 
Epaminondas  now  attempted,  by  a  rapid  march,  to  surprise  and 
seize  Mantinea ;  but  in  the  meantime  its  garrison  had  been  rein- 
forced by  an  Athenian  army,  which  met  the  Thebans  in  front,  on 
their   approach    to  the  town,  while  the  Spartans,  aware  of  their 
design,  were    following  close  upon    their  rear.       An   engagement 
now  ensued,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in    the  Grecian  history. 
The    army  of  the    Thebans  amounted  to  30,000  foot  and  3000 
horse  ;  that  of  the  Lacedcemonians  and  their  allies  to  20,000  foot 
and  2000  horse. 

The  battle  was  fought  with  the  most  desperate  courage  on  both 
sides.     The    detail  of  particulars   is  to  be    found    in   Xenophon, 


CH.   in. J  EPAMI.VONDAS MANTI.NEA.  167 

Diodorus,  and  other  historians.  The  judicious  disposition  of  tlie 
Theban  army,  and  their  movements  during  the  engagement, 
showed  the  profound  mihlary  skill  of  their  general.  In  the  heat 
of  the  battle,  the  Thebans  having  broken  and  repulsed  the  Lace- 
daemonian phalanx,  Epaminondas,  too  rashly  pursuing  his  success, 
had  advanced  beyond  the  line  of  his  troops,  when  the  enemy 
rallying,  he  was  exposed  to  a  whole  shower  of  darts,  and  fcill, 
pierced  with  numberless  wounds.  His  faithful  Thebans  found 
means  to  rescue  his  body  while  life  yet  remained,  and  to  bring 
kini  to  his  tent.  A  javelin  stuck  fast  in  his  breast,  and  his  physi- 
:;ian  declared  that  on  extracting  it  he  would  immediately  expire. 
In  this  extremity,  breathless  and  fainting,  while  his  friends  stood 
weeping  around  him,  he  first  inquired  what  was  become  of  his 
shield,  and  being  told  that  it  was  safe,  he  beckoned  to  have  it 
brought  to  him,  and  kissed  it.  He  then  asked  which  side  had 
gained  the  victory,  and  being  told  it  was  the  Thebans,  "  Then," 
said  he,  "all  is  well."  While  some  of  his  friends  were  lamenting 
his  untimely  fall,  and  regretting  that  he  had  left  no  children  to 
perpetuate  his  memory;  "Yes,"  said  he,  'I  have  left  two  fair 
daughters,  Leuctra  and  Manthica — these  will  perpetuate  my  mem- 
ory;"— so  saying,  with  his  own  hands  he  drew  forth  the  javelin 
from  his  breast,  and  instantly  expired. 

The  ancient  historians  have  ranked  Epaminondas  among  the 
greatest  heroes  and  most  illustrious  characters  of  antiquity.  Epam- 
inondas princeps  meo  jiuUcio  Gracict^  says  Cicero.  As  a  2;eneral, 
there  needs  no  other  criterion  of  his  merit  than  to  compare  the 
situation  in  which  he  found  his  country,  enslaved,  oppressed,  weak, 
and  inconsiderable,  with  that  in  which  he  left  it,  the  most  formidable 
power  in  Greece.  As  a  private  citizen,  his  social  virtues,  the  gen- 
erosity of  his  disposition,  a  total  disregard  of  wealth,  which  his  high 
employments  gave  him  an  easy  opportunity  of  accumulating  ;  his 
eminent  philosophical  and  literary  genius,  and  above  all,  a  modest 
simplicity  of  demeanor,  which  added  lustre  to  all  his  numerous 
accomplishments,  w^ere  the  distinguishing  features  of  his  character. 
Willi  him  the  glory  of  his  country  may  be  said  to  have  been  born 
and  to  have  died  ;  for,  from  the  inauspicious  day  of  his  death,  the 
Theban  power  vanished  at  once,  and  that  Boeotian  republic  sunk 
again  into  its  original  obscurity. 

Athens  and  Sparta  were  humbled  in  the  battle  of  Mantinea. 
Thebes  was  victorious,  but  she  was  undone  by  the  death  of  Epam- 
inondas. All  parties  were  now  disposed  to  peace,  and  Artaxerxes, 
more  powerful  among  those  infatuated  states  than  in  his  own  domin- 
ions of  Persia,  dictated  the  terms  of  the  treaty.  It  was  stipulated 
that  each  of  the  states  should  retain  what  it  then  possessed,  and  that 
all  should  enjoy  their  liberties  independent  of  each  other.  The 
Spartans  alone  refused  their  assent  to  this  treaty,  unwilling  to  relin- 
quish that  control  which  they  considered  as  their  right  over  some 
of  their  tributary  cities. 


168  UNIVF.RSAI.    IIISTORV.  [noOK    II 

Arlaxerxes  soon  after  died  of  a  broken  heart  Oariiis,  lils  eldes* 
BOn,  togellier  with  fifty  of  liis  natural  brothers,  had  roiisj)ired  ai^ainst 
tlieir  father,  but  iheir  designs  were  defeated,  and  ihry  were  all  put 
to  death.  Ochus,  the  third  of  liis  lawful  sons,  succeeded  him. 
This  monster  had  made  iiis  way  to"  the  throne  by  murdering  hia 
elder  brother,  and,  to  secure  his  possession,  he  murdered  all  that 
remained  of  his  kindred. 

The  treaty  recently  concluded  among  the  states  of  Greece  was 
fatal  in  its  consequences  to  the  glory  of  the  nation.  The  greater 
re])ublics,  exhausted  and  weakened  by  the  war,  and  now  abridged 
in  tJKjir  power  and  resources  by  the  independence  of  the  smaller 
states,  were  alternately  sunk  in  indolence  and  apathy,  and  em 
broiled  by  civil  contentions.  The  inferior  republics,  who  derived 
weight  and  consideration  chiefly  from  their  alliance  with  the  great 
states  who  were  their  protectors,  were  now  forced,  in  all  their 
quarrels  with  each  other,  to  rely  upon  their  own  strength.  No 
general  object  united  the  nation,  which  now  became  a  discordant 
mass  of  unequal  and  independent  parts.  In  addition  to  these 
symptoms  of  decline,  luxury  was  extending  her  baneful  influence, 
in  enervating  and  corrupting  the  patriotic  spirit.  A  taste  for  the 
productions  of  the  tine  arts,  and  a  passionate  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
had,  in  the  Athenian  republic  particularly,  entirely  supplanted 
heroic  virtue.  Poets,  musicians,  sculptors,  and  comedians,  were 
now  the  only  great  men  of  Attica.  Wkile  the  bewitching  dramas 
of  Sophocles  and  Euripides  charmed  the  ears,  and  the  sculptures 
of  Phidias,  of  Glycon,  and  Praxiteles  fascinated  the  eyes  of  the 
refined  and  voluj)tuous  Athenians,  military  glory  was  forgotten  ; 
and  the  defence  of  the  state,  no  longer  the  care  of  its  citizens,  was 
committed  to  mercenaries,  who  filled  both  its  fleets  and  its  armies. 
Even  in  Sparta,  luxury  had  begun  to  spread  her  contagion  ;  while 
her  power  was  shaken  by  the  general  treaty,  which,  though  rejected 
on  her  part,  gave  sufficient  warrant  to  all  her  dependent  cities  to 
renunce  their  allegiance. 

In  this  declining  situation  of  Greece,  while  she  offered  a  tempt- 
ing object  of  ambition  to  the  designs  either  of  a  foreign  conqueror 
or  a  domestic  tyrant,  the  prince  of  a  small  monarchy,  hitherto 
quite  inconsiderable,  began  to  meditate  an  attack  against  her 
general  liberties.  This  was  Philip  of  Macedon  ;  the  same  youth 
whom,  as  we  have  observed,  a  few  years  beforg,  Pelopidas  had 
carried  a  hostage  to  Thebes  in  security  of  that  establishment  he 
had  made,  in  })lacing  Perdiccas  II.  on  the  throne,  and  composing 
the  disorders  of  his  kingdom. 

Philip,  while  in  Thebes,  had  been  the  companion  of  Epaminon- 
das,  the  pupil  of  his  father  Polymnis,  and  had  shared  in  those 
excellent  lessons  which  formed  the  illustrious  Theban  to  be  the 
support  and  glory  of  his  country.  The  house  of  Polymnis,  at 
Thebes,  was  the  resort  of  the  most  learned  and  virtuous  men  of 
that  country.     There  Lysidas,  of  Tarentum,  read  his  lectures  on 


CII.    III.]  PHILIP    OF    MACEDOiV,  1G9 

philosophy;  a  science  in  which  Epaminondas  was  np  less  eminent, 
by  the  testimony  of  all  antiquity,  than  he  was  in  the  talents  of  a 
great  military  leader.  It  was  in  the  latter  character  rather  than 
the  former  that  he  served  as  a  model  to  the  young  Philip,  who, 
though  of  acute  talents,  had  neither  the  virtues  nor  the  cultivateil 
mind  of  the  illustrious  Theban.  The  abilities  of  Philip  raised  him 
to  the  throne,  which  was  then  filled  by  his  nephew  Amyntas,  the 
son  of  his  elder  brother  Perdiccas.  The  Macedonians  declared 
they  wanted  not  a  child,  but  a  man,  to  be  their  governor.  If 
great  military  talents,  unbounded  ambition,  with  profound  political 
sagacity,  could,  in  a  sovereign,  compensate  for  the  want* of  moral 
qualities  and  the  absence  of  every  generous  virtue,  Philip  was  not 
unworthy  to  wear  a  crown. 

Scarcely  was  he  seated  on  the  throne,  when  he  was  attacked 
from  every  quarter.  The  Illyrians  and  the  Paeonians  made  inroads 
upon  his  territories.  Two  rival  princes,  Pausanias  and  Argsus, 
relations  of  the  last  monarch,  disputed  his  title,  each  claiming  the 
sovereignty  for  himself.  The  Thracians  armed  for  Pausanias,  the 
Athenians  for  Argaeus.  Philip  disarmed  the  Paeonians  by  bribes 
and  promises.  Tlie  Thracians  were  won  by  a  similar  policy.  He 
gained  a  victory  over  the  Athenians,  in  which  his  rival  Argaeus  lost 
his  life;  and  having  thus  accomplished  the  security  of  his  title  to 
the  throne,  he  attained  with  the  people  of  Athens  the  character  of 
extreme  moderation  and  generosity,  by  sending  back  to  their 
country  without  ransom,  all  the  prisoners  he  had  taken  in  battle. 

In  this  manner,  by  the  most  dexterous  policy,  he  removed  a 
part  of  his  enemies,  that  he  might  have  the  rest  at  his  mercy, 
riiiherto  his  conduct  might  in  general  be  justified;  for,  as  yet,  his 
interest  had  not  prompted  him  to  act  a  dishonorable  part.  No 
man  wantonly,  or  through  choice,  throws  away  his  character. 
But  Philip  knew  no  other  motive  of  action  but  his  own  interest ; 
and  he  had  no  scruples  as  to  the  means  of  accomplishing  it.  Arti- 
fices of  every  kind,  dissimulation,  perfidy,  breach  of  promises,  and 
oaths,  were  with  Philip  the  ordinary  and  the  necessary  engines  of 
government.  Corruption  was  his  favorite  instrument.  It  was  a 
maxim  of  his,  that  no  fortification  was  impregnable  into  which  a 
mule  could  make  its  way  with  a  bag  of  money.  Philip,  in  his 
designs  against  the  liberties  of  Greece,  found  occasion  to  employ 
the  utmost  extent  of  his  political  address,  and  to  exercise,  alter- 
nately every  talent  of  which  he  was  possessed.  He  had  his  pen- 
sionaries in  all  the  republics,  whose  care  it  was  to  give  him  intelli- 
gence of  every  measure,  to  form  a  party  in  his  interest,  and  on  all 
occasions  when  his  ei.  erprises  were  called  in  question,  to  justify 
his  designs  and  vindicate  his  proceedings.  In  Athens,  he  had  in 
this  character  .^Eschines  the  orator  devoted  to  his  interest,  and  two 
coinedians,  Aristodemus  and  Ncoptolemus,  men  of  high  innuence 
in  the  public  assemblies.  ^V'itjl  these  illustrious  characters  in  his 
interest,  Philip  was  at  ease  with  respect  to  the  Athenians. 
VOL.   I  '22 


|-  IQ  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [liOOK   II 

In  tin;  same  manner  securing  his  partisans  in  tlio  oilier  repub- 
lics, it  was  now  only  necessary  to  set  them  at  variance  with  each 
other,  that  his  alliance  might  be  conrted,  and  an  opportunity  fiir- 
nishcd  for  introducing  the  Macedonian  troops  into  Greece.  TliP 
miserable  policy  and  imprudence  of  the  principal  republics  accom 
plished  his  wishes,  without  giving  him  even  the  Ironble  of  an 
effort. 

The  Phocians  having  ploughed  up  some  of  the  lands  which 
belonged  to  the  temple  of  Apollo,  at  Delphos,  were  cited  on  that 
account  before  the  Amphictyonic  council,  and  condemned  to  pay 
a  heavy  fine.  Instead  of  submitting  to  this  decree,  they  now 
pretended  that  the  custody  of  the  temple  and  all  its  patrimony 
belonged  of  right  to  ihem  ;  and  they  boldly  seized  the  sacred 
edifice  with  the  whole  of  its  treasures.  These  proceedings  ))ut  all 
Greece  into  a  flame.  The  Phocians  had  some  plausible  reasons 
to  assign  in  support  of  their  claim;  otherwise  we  cannot  suppose 
that  the  Athenians  and  Spartans  would  have  espoused  their  cause, 
in  opj)osition  to  most  of  the  other  states  of  Greece,  who  regarded 
their  conduct  as  highly  sacrilegious.  The  Thebans,  the  Thessa- 
lians,  and  the  Locrians,  armed  in  the  cause  of  Apollo,  and  took  a 
most  active  part  in  what  was  termed  the  sacred  war.  The  spirit 
of  hostility  acquired  additional  rancor  from  religious  zeal;  and  both 
sides  adopted  the  sanguinary  policy  of  giving  no  quarter  in  battle, 
and  putting  to  death  their  prisoners  without  mercy.  The  Theban 
general,  Philomelns,  found  himself  in  this  last  predicament,  and 
seeing  no  jjossibility  of  escaping  out  of  the  hands  of  a  body  of  the 
enemy  who  had  surrounded  him,  threw  himself  headlong  over  a 
precipice. 

The  sacred  toar  had  lasted  for  some  time.  Philip  of  Macedon 
in  the  meantime  was  gradually  extending  his  territories,  and  had 
already,  by  conquest,  made  himself  master  of  a  great  part  of 
Thrace,  when  the  Thessalians  implored  his  assistance  against 
their  tyrant  Lycophron,  the  brother  and  successor  of  Alexander  of 
Pherae,  whose  government  they  felt  yet  more  intolerable  than  that 
of  his  predecessor.  The  tyrant  had  sought  aid  of  the  Phocians 
lo  support  him  against  his  own  subjects,  who,  on  their  part,  were 
thus  fully  justified  in  courting  the  assistance  of  the  Macedonians 
to  protect  their  liberties.  After  several  engagements  of  various 
issue,  Philip  prevailed  in  driving  the  Phocians  completely  out  of 
Thessaly;  and  Lycophron,  finding  himself  unable  to  cope  with 
the  Macedonian  power,  resigned  his  sovereiguty  and  put  Philip  in 
possession  of  his  capital  of  Pheras. 

A  short  time  before  this  period,  his  queen,  Olynipias,  the 
daugiiter  of  Neoptolemus,  king  of  Epirus,  was  delivered  at  Pella, 
in  the  first  year  of  the  106th  Olympiad  (356  b.  c),  of  a  son, 
Alexander,  justly  denominated  the  Great.  On  this  event,  Philip 
wrote  to  the  philosopher  Aristotle  in  these  emphatic  words,  truly 
worthy  of  a  king:  "  Know  that  a  son  is  born  to  us.     We  thank 


CH.   III.]  DEMOSTHENES.  171 

the  godi^,  first,  for  their  excellent  gift,  and,  secondly,  that  it  is 
bestowed  in  the  age  of  Aristotle,  who,  we  trust,  will  render  him  a 
son  worthy  of  his  father,  and  a  prince  worthy  of  Macedonia."  * 

The  success  wdiich  had  hitherto  attended  the  arms  and  the 
policy  of  Philip  inspired  him  now  with  the  daring  ambition  of 
rendering  himself  the  arbiter  and  sovereign  of  Greece.  The 
retreat  of  the  Phocians  from  Thessaly  furnished  him  with  the 
plausible  pretext  of  advancing  with  liis  troops  to  Thermopylae,  in 
order  to  enter  the  country  of  Phocis;  while  his  real  design  was  to 
secure  that  important  pass,  which  opened  to  him  the  territory  of 
Attica.  This  was  a  bold  attempt;  for  no  foreign  power  had  ever 
passed  that  gate  of  Greece,  since  the  defeat  of  the  Persians  at 
Plata^a.  The  Athenians  were  justly  alarmed,  not  less  for  their 
own  safety  than  for  the  general  liberties  of  the  nation  ;  and  they 
owed  the  energy  of  their  conduct  on  this  occasion  to  the  manly 
eloquence  and  patriotism  of  Demosthenes. 

Demosthenes,  the  prince  of  the  Grecian  orators,  now  made  the 
first  display  of  his  eminent  talents.  He  had  no  advantages  of 
birth  or  education.  His  father,  a  sword-cutler,  or,  as  Juvenal  has 
termed  him,  a  blacksmith,  left  him  an  orphan  at  the  age  of  seven, 
to  the  care  of  profligate  guardians,  who  robbed  him  of  his  small 
patrimony.  But  he  possessed  that  native  genius  which  surmounts 
every  disadvantage  of  birth  or  situation.  Ambition  prompted  him 
to  the  study  of  oratory;  for,  going  one  day  to  the  court  to  hear 
the  pleadings  in  some  cause  of  moment,  he  was  so  impressed  with 
the  eloquence  of  Callistratus,  and  so  fired  by  the  popular  applause 
bestowed  on  that  orator  upon  his  gaining  the  suit  in  which  he  had 
pleaded,  that  he  determined  from  that  moment  that  this  should  be 
his  road  to  eminence  and  distinction.  No  man,  in  this  arduous 
course,  ever  struggled  with  greater  natural  obstacles,  or  more  ha])- 
pily  overcame  them.  His  voice  was  harsh  and  uncouth,  his 
wticulalion  indistinct,  and  his  gestures  awkward  and  constrained; 
out,  sensible  of  his  defects,  he  labored  night  and  day  in  private 
exercises  of  elocution,  till  he  completely  subdued  them  ;  and  then, 
jonfident  of  his  powers,  he  broke  forth  at  once  the  most  distin- 
guished orator  of  his  age.  He  had  in  this  emergency  of  public 
idairs  a  noble  field  of  'exertion.  On  the  first  intelligence  that 
Philip  was  on  his  march  to  Thermopylae,  Demosthenes  ascended 
the  tribunal  in  the  Ecclesia,  and  in  a  most  animated  harangue 
/oused  the  patriotic  ardor  of  his  countrymen,  by  painting  to  them, 
ai  striking  colors,  the  ambitious  designs  of  this  artful  and  enter- 


•  Aristotle,  by  birlli  a  Stairj'ritp,  camo  to  Athens  at  the  age  of  eisrhtoen,  and 
was  for  Iwoiity  years  a  scholar  of  I'l:vt<i,  who  died  3-lS  b.  c.  In  the  foitv-tliird 
year  of  liis  a:r(.  he  went  to  Macedonia,  and  was  for  ciirlit  years  eniplovcii  in  the 
education  of  Alexander,  at  the  end  of  which  period  lie  returned  to  Athens, 
S'if)  n.  c,  and  tauglit  for  twelve  years  in  the  Lycfpum.  He  died  in  his  sixty- 
third  year,  3'J2  b.  c  ,  a  year  after  the  death  of  his  illustrious  ])apil 


ITi  UNIVERSAL    HISTOKV.  [kOOK  II 

prisf.ig  priiico;  and  iirgod  the  ahsoluie  necessity  of  an  irnmcfliaia 
and  inosl  vigorcnis  efFort  for  the  preservation  of  the  nalional  liljerly. 
Ills  clo(|iicnre  was  siiccef.sfiil.  Tlie  Athenians  instantly  (lew  to 
aiMus,  an(i  arrived  at  Tliennopyla)  in  sufiicient  lime  to  defend  l!ie 
entry  to  the  straits.  Piiihp  was  disconcerted  at  this  unexpected 
'■•roof  of  iiostility  from  the  Atlienians,  with  whom  he  had  taken 
the  utmost  pains  by  every  tneans  to  ingratiate  himself;  but  lie  was 
too  prudent  to  hazard  a  premature  discovery  of  the  extent  of  his 
ambitious  views.  lie  made  a  plausible  firetext  for  withdrawing 
his  troops  to  the  northward,  and  post|)oned  for  diat  time  his  ven- 
geance against  the  sacrilegious  Phocians.  The  Atlienians,  imposed 
on  by  this  politic  conduct,  began  to  consider  their  fears  of  danger 
as  altogether  groundless,  and  were  lulled  into  a  pleasing  dream  of 
perfect  security. 

The  sacred  war  had  now  lasted  about  ten  years;  and  every  cam- 
paign had  given  a  fresh  acquisition  of  power  to  the  daring  and  politic 
Macedonian.  The  Athenians,  finding  no  advantage  on  their  part, 
and  heartily  tired  of  hostilities,  which  gave  too  much  interruption 
to  their  favorite  ease  and  luxurious  enjoyments,  sent  ambassadors 
to  Philip  with  instructions  to  negotiate  a  general  peace.  But  he 
bribed  the  ambassadors,  spun  out  the  negotiations,  and  in  the  mean 
time  proceeded  in  the  most  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  war.  This 
conduct  might  have  opened  the  eyes  of  the  Athenians,  had  not 
their  corrupted  orators,  the  pensionaries  of  Philip,  labored  assidu- 
ously to  foster  dieir  blind  security.  "  The  interests  of  Philip  (said 
jiEschines)  are  the  same  with  your  own.  Why  therefore  this 
groundless  jealousy  and  alarm  at  all  his  motions?  Let  him  once 
pass  Thermopyht,  and  you  will  see  what  will 'be  his  conduct.  His 
darling  object  is  the  destruction  of  your  enemies.  His  design  is 
to  subdue  Thebes,  that  insolent  rival  of  the  Athenian  power  and 
sovereignty.  In  this  enterprise  he  wishes  only  to  cooperate  with 
yourselves;  and  when  accomplished,  as  it  speedily  must  be,  by  your 
joint  endeavors,  Athens  has  then  the  full  command  of  Greece." 
This  infatuated  people  were  actually  the  dupes  of  such  chimeras. 

The  Athenians  withdrew  their  army  from  Thermopyht;  Philip 
poured  down  like  a  torrent  upon  the  country  of  Phocis,  and  car.'-y- 
ing  all  before  him,  presented  himself  at  Delphos  as  the  avenger  of 
Apollo.  He  then  hastily  assembled  the  Amphictyonic  courxil, 
taking  care  previously  to  sound  the  deputies  of  the  several  states, 
and  to  admit  only  such  as  were  devoted  to  his  interest.  The 
assembly,  thus  prepared,  passed  a  decree  which  declared  the 
Phocians  to  have  forfeited  their  ])lace  in  that  general  council, 
which  henceforth  should  be  supplied  by  the  king  of  Macedon, 
whom,  in  consideration  of  his  important  services,  they  appointed 
to  preside  at  the  Pythian  games,  jointly  with  the  Thebans  and 
Thessalians.  Thus,  by  the  most  artful  policy,  Philip  had  acquired 
•^le  rights  of  a  naturalized  Greek,  his  dominions  of  MAcedonia  now 
ormed  a  part  of  tlie  body  of  the  nation,  and  he  had  henceforth  an 


CH.    III. J  DEMOSTHENES  173 

undisputed  tiilo  to  take  a  part  in  all  sucdi  measures  as  regarcied  the 
general  and  national  interests. 

From  that  moment  Philip  became  the  arbiter  of  Greece,  and  the 
umpire  in  all  differences  between  her  contending  states.  AVhile  the 
more  powerful  republics  courted  his  friendship  to  assist  them  in 
their  ambitious  designs  against  each  other,  or  against  the  liberty  of 
the  smaller  states,  these,  on  the  other  hand,  solicited  his  protection 
to  defend  their  rights  against  lawless  usurpation  and  tyranny.  Others, 
again,  who  fell  under  neither  of  these  descriptions,  but  were  embroil- 
ed with  faction  at  home,  besought  liis  aid  to  compose  their  domestic 
dissensions,  and  would  have  cheerfully  parted  with  their  liberty  to 
rid  themselves  of  the  miseries  of  tumult  and  anarchy. 

In  this  situation  of  Greece,  the  politics  of  Demosthenes,  who 
nicessantly  endeavored  to  rouse  the  Athenians  to  a  vigorous  op- 
position to  the  designs  of  Philip,  and  incite  them  to  declare  open 
war  against  this  ambitious  prince,  have  been  by  some  writers  cen- 
sured as  imprudent  and  pernicious;  and  it  is  no  doubt  a  truth  thai 
some  of  the  best  patriots  of  Athens,  the  virtuous  Phocion  for  ex- 
ample, were  of  this  opinion,  and  proposed  an  opposite  counsel. 
They  saw  that  the  martial  spirit  of  the  republic  was  extinct,  the 
finances  of  the  state  were  at  the  lowest  ebb,  and  the  manners  of 
the  people  irretrievably  corrupted.  There  was  assuredly  too 
much  solidity  in  the  argument  of  Phocion  which  he  opposed  to 
the  PhUippica  of  Demosthenes:  —  "I  will  recommend  to  you,  0 
Athenians,  to  go  to  war,  when  I  find  you  capable  of  supporting  a 
war;  when  I  see  the  youth  of  the  republic  animated  with  courage, 
yet  submissive  and  obedient ;  the  rich  cheerfully  contributing  to 
the  necessities  of  the  state;  and  the  orators  no  longer  cheating  and 
pillaging  the  public."  But  granting  the  verisimilitude  of  this  de- 
grading picture,  was  it  not  a  nobler  attempt  of  Demosthenes  to 
revive  the  martial  spirit,  to  stimulate  by  shame  the  indolence  of 
his  countrymen,  to  hold  up  in  glowing  colors  to  their  view  the 
striking  contrast  between  the  days  of  former  glory  and  of  present 
disgrace,  and  to  excite  to  some  great  and  patriotic  exertion  for 
the  recovery  of  the  national  honor  and  the  preservation  of  the.T 
liberties.' 

When  Athens  was  thus  roused  to  a  vigorous  exertion  for  (he 
preservation  of  Grecian  freedom,  it  was  surely  to  be  hoped,  %ud 
confidently  expected,  that  she  was  not  to  stand  alone  in  that  noble 
effort  of  patriotism.  But  even  had  none  of  the  other  republics 
followed  her  example,  and  joined  her  standards,  that  circumstance, 
instead  of  diminishing,  must  have  signally  enhanced  her  honor,  and 
afforded  the  only  possible  consolation  in  the  event  that  the  issue 
was  unpros])erous.  "No,"  said  Demosthenes,  in  a  tone  of  ani- 
mation which  fired  the  whole  assembly,  "  it  can  never  be  to  your 
reproach  that  you  have  braved  dangers  and  death  for  the  safely  and 
freedom  of  your  country.  I  swear  it  by  our  brave  forefathers, 
by  the  manes  of  those    illustrious  men  who  fell  at  Marathon,  ai 


17  I  UNIVEUSAI,    HISTORY.  [liOOK   II 

Plalcca,  and  ai  Salami's,  by  their  sacred  aslies  wliicli  sleep  with 
honor  in  tli(?  public  monnments."*  It  was  in  a  similar  strain  oi 
glowing  clocjiicncc  that  Demosthenes  roused  the  torpid  spirits  of 
his  countrymen  to  a  vigorous  effort  to  preserve  their  independf-nce 
against  the  designs  of  this  artful  and  ambiiinus  ])rinfe;  and  Piiilip 
I'.ad  just  n.'ason  lo  say  that  he  was  more  afraid  of  that  man  than  of 
all  the  fleets  and  armies  of  the  Athenians.  It  was  highly,  therefore, 
to  the  honor  of  the  Athenians  that  they  listened  to  the  counsels  of 
this  excellent  orator,  and,  however  unequal  to  the  contest,  deter- 
mined that  they  would  dearly  sell  their  freedom.  The  Thebans 
joined  them  in  this  noble  resolution,  persuaded  likewise  by  the 
eloquence  of  Demosthenes,  who  went  thither  as  aml^assador  from 
Athens  to  form  an  alliance  for  their  joint  interests  against  the  Ma- 
cedonian. It  was  now  no  shame  to  court  the  aid  of  Persia;  and  a 
league  was  formed  likewise  with  the  islands  of  Rhodes,  Cos,  and 
Chios.  A  fleet  was  armed  under  the  command  of  Chares  to  relieve 
Byzantium,  then  besieged  by  Philip;  but  Chares,  of  whom  the  allies 
had  no  favorable  opinion,  was  soon  after  superseded  by  Phocion; 
for  this  illustrious  man,  though  in  his  private  judgment  more  inclined 
to  peace,  was  in  war  justly  regarded  as  the  main  support  cf  his 
country's  honor  and  glory. 

Phocion  delivered  Byzantium  and  Perinthus  from  the  yoke  of 
Macedon,  drove  Philip  out  of  the  Chersonesus,  and  took  several 
of  his  dependent  cities.  The  Macedonian  loudly  complained  of 
the  Athenians,  as  having  first  commenced  hostilities;  and  the  artful 
dissembler,  still  further  to  preserve  a  show  of  moderation,  request- 
ed a  renewal  of  the  peace.  A  negotiation  for  that  purpose  was 
prolonged  by  him  for  two  years.  Demosthenes  still  raised  his 
voice  for  war.  It  was  upon  this  occasion  that  the  Athenians,  hav- 
ing consulted  the  Del|)hian  oracle,  which  advised  them  to  make 
peace,  Demosthenes,  in  an  animated  harangue,  openly  insinuated 
that  the  oracls  was  corrupted,  by  declaring  that  the  Pythia  Philip- 
pize:}.  The  eloquence  of  the  orator  prevailed  over  the  counsel  of 
the  hireling  priestess,  and  the  Athenians  took  the  field  in  great 
force,  joined  by  the  Thebans  and  their  other  allies.  It  was  the 
interest  of  Philip,  who  had  long  wished,  and,  consequently,  pre- 
pared himself  for  a  fair  trial  of  strength,  to  bring  his  enemy  as  soon 
as  }ifr)ssible  to  a  general  engagement.  This  the  Athenians  ought  of 
course  to  have  as  earnestly  avoided;  but  the  disunion  of  counsels 
which  commonly  attend  allied  armies,  was  the  cause  of  a  fatal 
resolution  to  abide  a  decisive  issue.  This  took  place  in  the  field 
of  Chaironea. 

The  Macedonian  army  amounted  to  30,000  foot  and  2000 
horse;  that  of  the  Athenians  and  their  allies  was  nearly  equal  in 
number.     The  left  wing  of  the  Macedonians  was  commanded  by 


•  Demosth.  Oral,  pro  Corona. 


Cri.  III.]  BATTLE    OF    CH^RONEA.  175 

the  young  Alexander,  and  it  was  his  fortune  to  be  opposed  by 
that  body  of  the  Thebans  called  the  sacred  band;  the  courage  oi' 
the  combatants  on  both  sides  was  therefore  inllaiiied  by  a  high 
principle  of  honor.  The  attack  of  Alexander  was  impeluoui 
beyond  all  description,  but  was  sustained  with  the  most  delermiuen 
bravery  on  the  part  of  the  Thebans;  and  had  the  courage  and 
conduct  of  their  allies  given  them  an  adequate  support,  the  fortune 
of  the  day  would  probably  have  been  fatal  to  the  Macedonians; 
out,  unaided  by  the  timely  cooperation  of  the  main  body  of  the 
Greeks,  the  sacred  band  were  left  alone  to  sustain  this  desjxjraie 
assault,  and  they  fought  till  the  whole  of  these  noble  Thebans  lay 
dead  upon  the  field.  The  Athenians,  however,  on  their  part,  l;ad 
made  a  most  vigorous  attack  on  the  centre  of  the  Macedonian  army, 
and  broke  and  put  to  flight  a  great  body  of  the  ^emy,  Philip, 
at  the  head  of  his  formidable  phalanx,  was  not  engaged  in  the 
fight,  but  coolly  withheld  his  attack  till  he  saw  the  Greeks  pursu- 
ing their  success  against  the  centre  with  a  tumultuous  impetuosity. 
He  then  charged  them  in  the  rear  with  the  whole  strength  and 
solidity  of  his  phalanx  opposed  to  their  deranged  and  disorderly 
battalions.  The  aspect  of  affairs  was  now  quite  changed,  and  the 
Grecian  army,  after  a  desperate  conflict,  was  broken  and  entirely 
put  to  flight.  Two  thousand  Greeks  were  made  prisoners,  and 
Philip  gained  the  praise  of  great  clemency  by  checking  the 
slaughter  of  the  Athenians  and  sparing  the  lives  of  all  his  captives. 
It  was  now  his  policy  to  soothe  and  conciliate  the  minds  of  that 
people  whom  he  wished  henceforth  to  rule  as  a  legitimate  sove- 
reign. This  decisive  engagement,  which,  in  its  imn)ediate  conse- 
\]uence3,  put  an  end  to  the  liberties  of  Greece,  was  fought  in  the 
year  338  before  Christ. 

The  Athenians  sought  a  desperate  consolation  in  attributing 
iheu"  defeat  at  Chaironea  to  the  fault  of  their  generals  Lysidas 
and  Chares.  The  former  they  condemned  to  death;  the  latter 
owed  his  life  to  the  boldness  and  intrej)idity  with  which  he  made 
his  defence. 

Demosthenes  had  fled  from  the  field  of  battle;  so  diflereiit  is 
speculative  from  active  courage.  Yet  the  merits  of  this  illustrious 
man  were  not  forgotten,  thougli  the  issue  of  his  counsels  had  been 
unsuccessful.  He  was  entrusted  by  the  Athenians  with  the  charge 
of  rebuilding  the  walls  of  the  city,  and  a  crown  of  gold  was  decreed 
to  him,  at  the  suggestion  of  Ctesiphon,  as  the  reward  of  his  pub- 
lic services.  This  mark  of  honor  excited  the  jealousy  of  his  rival 
iEschines,  and  gave  rise  to  that  famous  controversy  -'eoi  i^iFqui'ov 
(i.  e.  cnncernin^  the  crown) — which  produced  two  of  the  most 
animated  orations  that  are  preserved  to  us  of  the  composition  of 
the  ancients.  Demosthenes  came  off  triumphant,  and  his  op()o- 
nt*nt  was  banished  from  his  country.  Cicero,  in  his  third  bo<jk 
"De  Oratore,"  c.  56,  has  recorded  a  very  beautiful  anecdote  on 
this  occasion,     ^schines,  in  exile  among  tlic   Rhodians,  amused 


tT6  inMVKUSAi.   iiisruUY  [iiook   11 

liimscir  with  rcciliiif;  lo  ii;;il  [n-oplo  some  of  his  ouii  oiatioiis. 
Among  others,  ho  rehearsed  to  them  ihai  which  he  had  sjKjken 
against  Demosihenes  in  the.  cause  of  tlic  crown.  The  Rhodians 
expressed  a  tiesire  to  hear  what  liis  opponent  had  answered  to  a 
composition  so  powerful  and  convincing.  He  tlien  read  lo  then), 
with  proper  modulation  of  voice  and  empiiasis,  the  oration  of 
Demosthenes,  which,  when  they  liad  all  united  in  admiring — 
"Think  now,  my  friends,"  said  he,  "how  much  greater  must  have 
been  your  admiration  had  you  heard  tliat  extraordinaiy  rnan  him- 
self recite  this  masterly  composition."  A  singular  instance  indeed 
of  his  generosity  of  mind,  who  couhl  thus  do  justice  to  tlie  merits 
of  a  rival,  whose  success  and  triumph  had  been  the  cause  of  his 
own  disgrace. 

It  may  be  justly  said  that  of  all  those  sciences  which  deserve 
the  name  of  manly  or  truly  dignified,  eloquence  was  the  only  one 
which  yet  continued  to  flourish  in  Greece. 

After  the  battle  of  Chaeronea  all  the  states  of  Greece  submitte(J 
to  die  conqueror.  But  it  was  not  the  policy  of  Philip  to  treat 
them  as  a  conquered  people.  He  knew  that  the  Greeks  must  be 
very  cautiously  managed.  He  endeavored  to  withdraw  their  minds 
from  .ill  idea  of  the  degraded  condition  to  which  they  were  now 
reduced.  His  views  had  pointed  to  a  greater  object  of  ambition 
than  the  sovereignty  of  Greece;  and  in  proposing  to  them  the  con 
quest  of  Persia,  he  withdrew  their  attention  from  the  galling  thought 
of  their  own  servitude,  while  he  flattered  their  self-consequence  by 
iuaking  the  Greeks  the  partner?  in  his  own  schemes  of  extensive 
dominion.  It  was  a  natural  preparatory  measure  to  appoint  Philip  the 
generalissimo  of  the  nation. 

At  this  period  the  Persian  monarchy  was  embroiled  with  the 
revolt  of  several  of  the  provinces.  Ochus  had  reduced  them  less 
by  force  of  arms  than  by  corrupting  and  bringing  over  to  his  inter- 
est the  heads  of  the  rebellion.  Mentor  of  Rhodes  delivered  up 
to  him  the  Sidonians,  who,  when  they  discovered  that  they  were 
betrayed,  set  fire  to  their  city  and  perished  in  the  flames.  The 
dreadful  catastrophe  was  followed  by  the  submission  of  all  Phoe- 
nicia ;  aiid  Cyprus,  which  had  likewise  revolted,  returned  soon 
after  to  its  allegiance.  Mentor's  services  were  rewarded  by  the 
Persian  monarch  with  the  government  of  all  the  Asiatic  coasts. 
Ochus  did  not  long  enjoy  the  pacification  of  his  empire.  Bagoas, 
a  favorite  eunuch,  poisoned  him  and  all  his  children,  except  Arses, 
the  youngest,  whose  infancy  afforded  the  murderer  the  prospect  of 
governing  Persia  as  his  tutor;  but  dreading  the  punishment  of  his 
crimes,  he  thought  it  his  safest  policy  to  raise  to  the  throne  a 
prince  of  the  loyal  blood,  Darius,  surnamed  Codomannus,  who  is 
said  to  have  been  the  grandson  of  Darius  Nothus. 

Such  was  the  state  of  Persia  when  Philip  prepared  for  his 
great  enterprise,  by  sending  his  lieutenants  Attains  and  Parmenio 
into  Asia.      As  usual  before  all  expeditions  of  importance,  he  con 


en.   IV.]  DEATH    OF    PHILIP.  177 

suited  the  Delphic  oracle,  and  received  the  following  response, 
equally  ap])licable  to  the  prosperous  or  unsuccessful  event  of  the 
war  :  —  The  bull  is  ready  crowned  ;  Ids  end  approaches,  and  he 
icill  soon  be  sacrijiced.  "  The  prophecy,"  said  Philip,  "is  quite 
clear:  the  hull  is  the  monarch  of  Persia."  The  prediction  speed- 
li}  found  its  accomplishment,  but  Philip  himself  was  the  victim. 
While  engaged  in  celebrating  a  magnificent  festival  on  the  mar- 
riage of  his  daughter  Cleopatra  with  the  king  of  Epirus,  and 
walking  in  solemn  procession  to  the  temple,  he  was  struck  into 
the  heart  with  a  dagger  by  Pausanias,  a  noble  youth  who  hac* 
been  brutally  injured  by  Attalus,  the  brother-in-law  of  Philip 
and  to  whom  that  prince  had  refused  to  do  justice.  Philip  had 
in  the  latter  period  of  his  reign  degraded  himself  by  some  stronc 
acts  of  tyranny,  the  fruit  of  an  uncontrolled  indulgence  of  vicious 
appetites.  As  the  pretext  of  a  divorce  from  his  queen  Olympias, 
the  mother  of  Alexander,  he  threw  the  most  unjust  suspicions  upon 
her  character,  and  drove  her  son  from  court  in  disgust  at  the  con- 
duct of  his  father,  who, now  assumed  Cassandra,  the  niece  of 
Attalus,  who  had  captivated  him  by  the  charms  of  her  person, 
into  the  place  of  his  injured  queen.  The  disgust  which  Alexander 
justly  conceived  at  these  proceedings,  encouraged  a  suspicion,  foi 
which,  however,  there  are  no  solid  grounds,  that  he  w^as  privy  to 
the  design  of  Pausanias. 

The  Athenians,  with  much  meanness,  expressed,  on  occasion 
of  Philip's  death,  the  most  tumultuous  joy.  A  solemn  sacrifice 
of  thanksgiving  was  offered  to  the  gods,  and  a  ciown  of  gold 
decreed  to  Pausanias  in  reward  of  his  services  to  the  nation.  It 
IS  probable  that  a  gleam  of  hope  arose  from  this  event  that  the 
liberty  of  Greece  might  yet  be  recovered  ;  but  they  were  strangers 
at  this  time  to  the  character  of  that  youth  who  now  succeeded  to 
the  throne  of  Macedonia. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Alexander  the  Great  takes  and  destroys  Thebes  —  Submission  of  the  Gre- 
cian States — Alexander  declared  General  of  the  Armies  of  Greece  —  I^attle 
of  the  Granicus — Issus — Sieg'e  of  Tyro — Expedition  into  Egypt — Battle  of 
Arbela — Alexander  at  Persepolis — Expedition  to  India  —  Return  to  Sus.i — 
Enters  Babylon,  and  dies — Division  of  his  Empire — Kingdom  of  Egypt — of 
Syria. 

Alexander  was  in  the  twentieth  year  of   his  age  when   he  suc- 
ceeded, by  the  death  of  Philip,  to  the  throne  of  Macedonia      This 
VOL.   I.  23 


178  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOKII. 

prince,  pos.scs.sc(l  of  all  llie  military  abilities  of  his  father,  inherited 
a  soul  more  truly  noble,  and  an  ainl(iti(in  yet  lucjre  unbounded. 
He  hud  from  his  infancy  given  proofs  of  that  singular  heroism  of 
character,  which  marked  the  conqueror  of  the  eastern  world.  To 
extraordinary  endowments  of  nature  he  had  joined  all  the  ad^an 
tages  of  education.  Under  the  tutelage  of  the  philosopher  Aris 
totle,  he  imbibed  not  only  a  taste  for  learning  and  the  sciences, 
but  those  excellent  lessons  of  j)olilics,  in  which  that  great  teachci 
was  qualified,  beyond  all  his  contemporaries,  to  instruct  him. 

On  the  first  intelligence  of  the  death  of  Philij),  the  Greeks,  and 
particularly  the  citizens  of  Athens,  exhibited  that  pitiful  exultation, 
which  only  evinced  their  own  pusillanimity.  The  Macedonian 
heir  they  regarded  as  a  mere  boy,  from  whom  the  liberties  of 
Greece  could  never  be  in  serious  hazard;  as  he  would,  Uiey  con- 
ceived, find  sufficient  employment  both  for  his  policy  and  prowess 
in  securing  the  stability  of  his  hereditary  throne  against  domestic 
faction.  Lest,  however,  the  example  of  Philip  might  encourage 
his  son  to  similar  schemes  of  ambition,  the  Athenians  thought  it  a 
prudent  measure  to  form  an  ofiensive  and  defensive  league  with 
several  of  the  Grecian  states,  against  the  new  king  of  Macedonia, 
with  the  view  of  maintaining  entire  the  national  independence. 
Alexander  beheld  these  measures  in  silence:  the  time  was  not  yet 
come  for  the  full  display  of  that  great  plan  of  empire,  which  his 
comprehensive  mind  had  formed.  The  Thracians,  however,  with 
the  Paionians  and  Illyiians,  having  made  the  death  of  Philip  the 
signal  of  emancipation  from  the  newly  imposed  yoke  of  jNIacedon, 
Alexander  made  the  first  essay  of  his  arms  against  these  barbarous 
nations,  whose  revolt  he  chastised  with  the  most  signal  severity.* 

The  Greeks  were  speedily  roused  from  their  dream  of  security: 
but  their  surprise  was  extreme  when  they  beheld  the  Macedonian 
pour  down  with  his  army  upon  Bceotia,  and  present  himself  at  the 
gates  of  Thebes.  The  Thebans,  on  a  false  report  of  his  death  in 
battle  against  the  Illyrians.  had  expelled  the  Macedonian  garrison, 
and  put  to  death  its  commanders,  Amyntas  and  Tiniolaus.  Alex- 
ander offered  pardon  to  the  city  on  condition  of  absolute  submis- 
sion, and  the  delivering  up  of  the  principal  ofienders.  The 
Thebans  were  obstinate,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  Thebes 
was  taken  by  storm,  and  abandoned  to  the  fury  of  the  Macedo- 
nian troops,  who  plundered  and  destroyed  it.  Six  thousand  of 
the  inhabitants  were  put  to  the  sword,  and  thirty  thousand  sold 
to  slavery.  The  priests,  however,  with  their  families,  were  treated 
with  reverence;  and  while  the  streets  and  fortifications  of  the  city 
were  reduced  to  a  mass  of  ruins,  the  conqueror  showed  his  respect 
to  the  memory  of  Pindar,  by  preserving  from  destruction  the 
great  poet's  house,  which  was  still  occupied  by  his  descendants. 

•  For  ample  details  of  this,  and  of  all  the  subsequent  campaigns  of  Alexander 
•ee  vol.  iii.  of  the  Family  Library. 


CH.   IV.]  ALEXANDER    THE    GREAT.  179 

This  exemplary  severity  struck  terror  throughout  all  Greece. 
The  Athenians,  elevated  with  the  smallest  glimpse  of  good  fortune, 
were  the  first  to  show  an  abasement  of  spirit.  They  had  received, 
after  the  fall  of  Thebes,  a  part  of  the  fugitive  citizens.  For  this 
act  of  hupunity  they  now  thought  it  necessary  to  apologize,  by 
sending  an  embassy  to  Alexander,  to  deprecate  his  wrath,  and  to 
assure  him  of  their  sincere  desire  to  maintain  a  friendly  alliance 
The  Macedonian,  contemning  them  the  more  for  the  meanness  of 
this  behavior,  made  a  peremptory  demand  that  they  should  deliver 
up  to  him  the  persons  of  Demosthenes,  Lycurgus,  and  six  others 
of  the  principal  demagogues,  to  whose  seditious  harangues  be 
attributed  the  hostile  sj)irit  they  had  shown  to  all  his  measures. 
He  did  not,  however,  wish  to  push  matters  to  extremity.  The 
business  was  finally  compromised  by  a  public  decree,  by  which 
the  Athenians  pledged  themselves  to  institute  a  strict  inquiry  uito 
the  alleged  ground  of  offence,  and  to  inflict  such  punishment  as 
the  crimes,  if  proved,  should  merit. 

The  submission  of  Athens  was  followed  by  friendly  embassies, 
and  offers  of  peace  and  alliance  from  all  the  states  of  Greece. 
Alexander  now  summoned  a  general  council  of  deputies,  from  all 
the  several  republics,  to  assemble  at  Corinth,  with  the  purpose  of 
deliberating  on  a  measure  which  regarded  their  common  interests 
and  honor.  Here  he  formally  intimated  to  them  his  design  of 
following  out  the  great  project  of  his  father,  the  conquest  of  Persia. 
The  design  was  flattering  to  the  Greeks,  who  had  ever  regarded 
the  Persians  as  an  irreconcilable  enemy,  the  object  of  hereditary 
hatred  and  jealousy;  and  in  wjiose  destruction  they  pleased  them- 
selves with  the  prospect  of  regaining  the  honorable  ascendenc)^ 
they  had  once  enjoyed  above  all  the  contemporary  nations.  Ani- 
mated with  this  feeling,  they  received  the  proposal  of  Alexandei 
with  exultation  ;  and  already  anticipating  the  triumphs  to  be  gained 
under  his  banners,  they  hailed  him  commander-in-chief  of  the 
united  armies  of  Greece. 

The  preparations  commenced  by  Philip  were  continued  by 
Alexander  during  the  few  months  of  winter  that  preceded  the 
opening  of  this  important  campaign;  but  active  as  we  may  believe 
those  preparations  were,  they  bore  no  proportion  to  the  magnitude 
of  the  enterprise.  In  fact,  the  chief  prospect  of  its  success  arose, 
not  from  the  strength  of  the  invader,  but  from  the  weakness  of  the 
invaded  empire.  We  have  already  remarked*  the  very  detective 
system  of  government  in  this  extensive  monarchy,  and  the  total 
want  of  all  principle  of  union  between  the  members  of  so  vast  a 
body.  The  people,  over  whom  their  governors  or  satraps  tyran- 
nized with  the  most  absolute  authority,  were  quite  indifferent  to 
any  changes  that  might  take  place  in  the  seat  of  empire.     Thus 


See  Chapter  II.  of  this  book,  toward  the  conclusion 


,R0  UMvnu.sAi.  iiisToiiv.  [nooK  ii 

wo  linvf  seen  ;in  fMiimcli  di'posc  Jiiid  |)iit  to  dciilli  one  monarch 
with  nil  his  descendants,  and  plar-c  another  on  the  throne,  without 
prochicinir  any  other  efTccts  than  might  have  folltnved  in  other 
kingdoms  upon  a  sovereign  changing  his  first  minister.  The  truth 
is,  thai  the  general  peace  of  the  emj)ire  had  ever  arisen  out  of  its 
general  \yeakness.  The  provinces  had  as  little  communication 
with  oafli  other  as  they  had  with  the  cajiita! ;  and  these  separate 
and  independent  bodies  had  not  even  the  sliglit  bond  of  union 
which  arises  from  a  common  religion.  A  dcsj)ot  of  high  spirit  and 
a  vigorous  mind  might  have  kept  in  order  this  discordant  mass  ; 
but  such  was  not  the  character  of  the  present  monarch.  Darius 
Codomannus,  who  owed  his  elevation  to  the  eunuch  Bagoas,  was 
a  prince  possessed  of  many  amiable  qualities — of  a  gentle  and 
humane  disposition  ;  who  might  have  swayed  witii  honor  a  pacific 
sceptre,  in  a  nation  enjoying  a  good  political  constitution,  and 
governed  by  wholesome  laws  ;  but  he  was  neither  qualified  to  fill 
the  throne  of  Persia,  nor  to  be  the  antagonist  of  Alexander. 

This  prince,  who,  in  all  his  enterprises,  never  indulged  a  doubt 
of  his  success,  set  out  for  Persia  in  the  beginning  of  spring,  at  the 
head  of  an  army  of  thirty-five  thousand  men,  and  furnished  with 
provisions  only  for  a  single  month.  He  had  committed  to  Antipater 
the  government  of  Macedonia,  in  his  absence.  With  this  incon- 
siderable army,  but  excellently  disciplined,  and  commanded  by 
many  brave  and  able  officers,  who  had  gained  experience  under 
the  banner  of  his  father  Philip,  he  arrived  in  six  days'  march  at 
the  passage  of  the  Hellespont,  and  crossed  the  narrow  sea  without 
opposition.  While  traversing  Phrygia,  he  is  reported  to  have 
visited  the  tomb  of  Achilles  ;  and,  in  an  apostrophe  to  the  shade 
of  that  great  warrior,  is  said  to  have  expressed  his  en\y  of  his  hap- 
piness, who  in  life  enjoyed  the  comfort  of  a  faithful  friend,  and 
after  his  death  had  his  name  immortalized  by  the  greatest  of 
poets. 

Darius,  on  the  first  intelligence  of  the  advance  of  Alexander 
with  this  trifling  force,  resolved  to  crush  at  once  this  inconsiderate 
young  man,  and  despatched  immediately  an  army  of  100,000  fool 
and  io,000  horse,  to  the  banks  of  the  Granicus,  a  small  river  of 
Mysia,  which  discharges  itself  into  the  Propontis.  This  measure 
of  the  Persian  monarch  was  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  his  ablest 
generals,  who  counselled  him  to  follow  a  more  protracted  plan  of 
warfare.  They  advised  him  to  lay  waste  the  provinces  through 
which  lay  the  course  of  the  Macedonian  army,  and  to  limit  all  his 
attacks  to  a  skirmishing  warfare,  merely  with  the  view  of  harassing 
and  wearing  out  the  enemy  by  fatigue  and  want  of  provisions. 
This  is  said  to  have  been  the  counsel  of  Mcmnon,  Darius's  ablest 
general  ;  who  proposed  at  the  same  time  to  conduct  an  army  to 
Greece  and  Macedonia,  to  retaliate  upon  the  invaders  in  their  own 
territory.  But  when  Darius  compared  his  own  force  and  resources 
with  those  of  his  antagonist,  it  wore  with  him  the  aspect  of  a  mean 


CH.    IV.  I  BATTLE    OF    THE    GRANICUS  181 

and  dastardly  policy,  to  ruin  some  of  the  finest  provinces  of  his 
empire  in  the  hope  of  starving  the  army  of  his  antagonist,  instead 
of  manfully  encountering  him  in  the  field.  Tiie  latter  advice,  of 
making  a  diversion  in  Macedonia,,  was  more  suitable  to  a  manlj 
spirit,  and  it  was  accordingly  adopted. 

Meantime,  the  Persians,  under  the  command  of  the  Satrap  of 
Phrygia,  were  drawn  up  in  formidable  array  upon  the  eastern  bank 
of  the  Granicus,  to  oppose  the  passage  of  the  Greeks.  The  rivei 
is  of  inconsiderable  breadth  and  depth,  but  of  great  rapidity.  The 
Macedonians,  therefore,  with  judicious  precaution,  entered  the  ford 
a  great  way  higher  llian  the  ))lace  of  the  opposite  shore  on  which 
they  meant  to  land;  and  crossing  in  an  oblique  direction,  had  the 
aid  of  the  stream  impelling  forward  their  ranks,  while  its  current 
gave  a  powerful  obstruction  to  the  enemy's  entering  the  river  and 
disputing  with  them  the  passage  of  the  ford.  Thus  a  large  body  of 
the  Grecian  army  crossed  the  stream,  with  no  other  annoyance  than 
what  arose  from  the  missile  weapons  of  the  Persians,  and  the  spears 
that  met  the  first  ranks  on  gaining  the  opposite  shore.  No  sooner, 
however,  had  these  made  good  their  ground,  and  by  the  spirit  of 
their  attack  given  full  occupation  to  the  opposing  Persians,  than  the 
main  body  of  the  Grecian  army  passed  without  resistance.  The 
contest  was  not  long  doubtful.  The  Persians  are  allowed  to  have 
fought  with  great  courage;  but  such  was  the  impression  made  by 
the  determined  resolution  and  intrepidity  of  the  Greeks,  while  Al- 
exander himself  led  them  on  against  the  thickest  ranks  of  the 
enemy,  that  the  Persian  army  was  broken  and  put  to  fiight,  before 
the  rear  of  the  Grecian  forces  had  j)assed  the  river.  According 
to  the  account  of  Arrian,  10,000  of  tlie  Persian  infantry  and  2500 
horse  were  slain  in  the  battle  of  the  Granicus.  Among  these  were 
many  officers  of  distinguished  valor  and  ability.  The  loss  of  the 
Greeks  amounted  to  the  trifling  number  of  eighty-five  horsemen 
and  thirty  infantry.  These  were  next  day  buried  with  their  arms, 
all  in  the  same  grave.  The  rich  spoils  of  the  Persian  army  Alex- 
ander sent  home  to  Macedonia,  to  be  ])resented  to  his-  mother,  as 
the  first  fruits  of  his  success;  and  to  Athens  he  sent  300  Persian 
shields,  with  this  niessage,  that  these  were  the  trophies  of  a  victory 
gained  by  llie  Greeks  under  his  command,  over  their  ancient  ene- 
mies. 

This  first  and  important  victory  facilitated  to  Alexander  the 
conquest  of  all  the  lesser  Asia.  Sardis,  tlie  ca|)ital  of  the  ancient 
Lydian  kingdom,  submitted  without  op|)OL^ition,  and  Miletus  and 
Halicarnassus,  after  a  short  but  vigorous  defence,  opened  their 
gates  to  the  conqueror.  Deriving  a  presage  of  continued  victory 
from  his  first  successes,  Alexander  now  sent  orders  to  his  fleet  to 
return  to  Macedonia,  thus  leaving  to  his  little  army  one  only  alter- 
native, that  they  must  conquer  or  perish.  Mernnon,  in  the  mean 
time,  had  sailed  with  a  body  of  Persian  troops  to  the  coast  of 
Greece.      He  began  by  an  assault  upon  some  of  the  islands.      He 


182  UMVEKSAI.  IIISTOIIV.  [nooK   If 

iiiiulc  liinis(!]f  iii;i,sl(!r  of  Cliio.s,  and  (jf  the  greator  |)art  of  Lesbos 
and  had  laid  siege  to  Mityleiie,  its  chief  city,  whence  he  pro]ioset' 
:o  pass  into  Enba'a,  and  tlieiiee  into  Attica.  This  well  concerted 
diversion  might,  in  all  probahiljiy,  have  checked  the  progress  of 
Alexander  in  Asia.  But  the  death  of  Memnon  destroyed  this 
promising  scheme ;  and  the  armament  returned  without  effect  to 
the  coast  of  PhaMiicia. 

Alexander  jiursuing  his  course  through  the  lower  Asia,  it  was 
the  counsel  of  Darius 's  best  officers,  that  he  shcnild  await  his  a|)- 
proach  in  the  plains  of  Assyria,  where  there  might  be  ample  spac  e 
lor  bringing  into  action  the  whole  of  his  immense  force;  but  this 
advice  was  too  mortifying  to  the  pride  of  the  monarch  of  Persia, 
who,  though  of  mild  and  gentle  manners,  was  a  man  of  high  spirit 
and  of  great  personal  courage.  He  was  impatient  to  check  the 
presumption  of  Alexander,  and,  advancing  to  meet  him,  rashly 
entered  the  passes  between  the  mountains  of  Cilicia,  near  the 
town  of  Issus;  a  situation  where,  from  the  nature  of  the  ground, 
the  greatest  part  of  his  army,  if  then  attacked,  could  not  possibly 
be  brought  to  act  with  effect  against  the  enemy.  Alexander, 
though  then  weakened  by  disease — (the  consequence  of  a  fever 
caught  by  imprudently  bathing,  when  overheated,  in  the  river 
Cydnus) — no  sooner  received  intelligence  of  the  critical  .situation 
of  the  Persians  in  the  defiles  of  a  mountainous  country,  than  he 
hastened  with  the  utmost  ardor  to  attack  them.  Arrian,  Quintus 
Curiius,  and  Plutarch,  have  all  given  different  statements  of  the 
number  of  the  Persian  army  at  the  battle  of  Issus;  but  the  lowest 
of  these  accounts  make  the  number  amount  to  400,000.  The 
same  historians  have  lavished  all  the  powers  of  description  in  paint- 
ing the  splendor,  riches,  and  magnificence  of  the  military  equipage 
of  this  immense  host.  That  body  of  the  Persians  named  the  Im- 
n)ortals,  consisted  of  10,000  chosen  troops,  who  were  clothed  in 
robes  of  gold  embroidery,  adorned  with  precious  stones,  and  wore 
about  their  necks  massy  collars  of  pure  gold.  The  chariot  of 
Darius  was  supported  by  statues  of  gold;  and  the  beams,  axle, 
and  wheels,  were  studded  with  precious  stones.  Ten  thousand 
horsemen  followed  the  chariot  with  lances  plated  with  silver. 
The  mother  and  the  wife  of  Darius  had  their  separate  chariots, 
attended  by  a  numerous  train  of  females  on  horseback;  and  the 
paseant  was  closed  by  a  vast  retinue  of  the  wives  of  the  Persian 
nobles  and  their  children,  guarded  by  some  companies  of  fool 
lightly  armed. 

Darius,  caught  thus  at  unawares,  in  the  mountains  of  Cilicia, 
with  this  immense  but  most  inefficient  force,  was  taught,  in  the 
battle  of  Issus,  how  little  confidence  is  to  be  placed  in  numbers, 
when  matched  against  a  few  experienced  and  well-disciplined 
troops.  The  Persians  were  defeated  with  immense  slaughter, 
their  loss  amounting,  as  is  said,  to  110,000  men,  while  thai  of  lb 
Macedonians,  according  to  Diodorus  and  Quintus  Curtius,  was  no 


CH     n'.]  QUI.VTUS    CURTIUS.  18" 

more  than  450.  Darius  liimsplf  displayed  great  personal  cour- 
age. He  fought  from  his  chariot  till  his  horses  were  wounded, 
and  its  course  obstructed  by  the  hea])3  of  dead  which  covered 
the  ground. 

I  cannot  omit  observing  here,  with  regard  to  the  history  o 
Alexander  written  by  Quintus  Curtius,  tiiat,  although  it  is  one  oi 
the  most-  elegant  works  that  remain  to  us  of  the  compositions  of 
antiquity,  its  authority  is  not  to  be  put  on  a  par  with  that  of  Arrian 
or  Diodorus.  All  accounts,  indeed,  of  the  exploits  of  Alexander, 
must  wear  an  air  of  the  marvellous;  for  many  even  of  those  facts 
which  w-e  know  to  be  strictly  true  are  in  themselves  prodigious. 
This  consideration,  which  has  rendered  Diodorus  and  Arrian  the 
more  cautious  in  admitting  nothing  into  their  narratives  but  what 
rested  on  the  strictest  historical  evidence,  has  served  with  Curtius 
only  as  a  temptation  and  license  for  amplification  and  embellish- 
ment. Yet  it  must  be  owned  that  some  of  those  embellishments 
are  in  themselves  so  pleasing,  that  we  can  scarcely  wish  them  to 
have  been  spared.  Such,  among  others,  is  that  admirable  and 
strongly  characteristic  oration  which  Curtius  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Scythian  chief,  addressing  himself  to  Alexander:  such  is 
that  beautiful  scene  which  Curtius  describes  to  have  passed  in  the 
tent  of  Darius,  after  the  battle  of  Issus;  the  error  of  Sysagambis, 
the  (lueen-mother,  wiio  addressed  herself  to  Hepha^stion,  mistaking 
him  for  Alexander;  the  fine  saying  on  that  occasion  of  Alexander, 
J\'on  errasti,  mater^  nam  ct  hie  Alcxamhi-  est ;  circumstances, 
indeed,  w^iich  Arrian  likewise  relates,  though  not  with  the  assur- 
ance of  their  perfect  authenticity.  There  is,  says  he,  such  a 
dignity  in  the  expression,  that  if  we  cannot  rest  on  the  story  as 
a  certainty,  we  ought  at  least  to  wish  it  to  be  true.  To  the  honor 
of  Alexander,  it  must  be  owned,  that  generosity  was  a  strong 
ingredient  in  his  nature  ;  and  that  the  humane  affections,  though 
at  times  overpowered,  and  apparently  extinguished  in  the  heat  of 
passion,  certainly  formed  a  part  of  his  genuine  character.  To  the 
mother,  and  to  the  kindred  of  Darius,  he  behaved  with  the  respect 
and  kindness  of  a  son  and  of  a  brother,  a  conduct  which  made 
a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  that  generous  and  ill-fated 
prince. 

Darius,  with  a  few  scattered  remains  of  his  army,  had  made  a 
precipitate  retreat  during  the  night,  and,  taking  his  course  eastward, 
crossed  the  Euphrates  at  Thapsacus.  His  empty  war-chariot  and 
cloak  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Macedonians,  gave  rise  to  a 
report  of  his  death,  which  threw  his  queen  and  the  captive  prin- 
cesses into  agonies  of  despair.  But  Alexander  hastened  to  unde- 
ceive them,  and  calmed  their  agitated  minds  by  repeated  assurances 
of  his  clemency  and  protection.  He  received,  a  few  days  after 
the  battle,  a  deputation  fiom  Darius,  conceived,  as  he  thought,  in 
a  strain  of  pride  unsuitable  to  the  present  circumstances  of  that 
•prince.       The   Persian   demanded   that   his   wife   and   the   captive 


184  UNIVERSAL    IIIMOKY.  [liOOK   II 

j)i  iiccsscs  should  be  iminetliately  rcsloicd  on  payincnl  of  a  ransom; 
and  declared  his  resolution  to  bring  into  tiie  field  an  army  that  should 
fully  repair  his  late  disasters.  Alexander  replied,  that  when  his 
antagonist  should  think  proper  to  throw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  his 
conqueror,  he  would  then  convince  iiim  that  he  needed  no  bribe  to 
excite  him  to  an  act  of  humanity. 

The  consequence  of  the  battle  of  Issus  was  the  subu)ission  of 
all  Syria.  The  city  of  Damascus,  where  Darius  had  deposited  a 
large  part  of  the  royal  treasures,  was  betrayed  by  its  governor  and 
given  up  to  Parmenio,  who  found  in  it  above  300  of  Darius 's  con- 
cubines, and  many  of  the  officers  of  the  king's  household.  The 
Phoenicians  had  suffered  much  oppression  under  the  Persian  yoke, 
and  were  thus  glad  to  be  emancipated  from  its  tyranny.  Strato, 
the  king  or  governor  of  Sidon,  attempted  in  vain  to  maintain  his 
j)rovince  in  its  allegiance;  he  was  deposed,  and  Alexander  having 
allowed  his  favorite  Hephrestion  to  dispose  of  the  crown,  he  con- 
ferred it  on  Abdolonymus,  a  man  of  great  worth  and  virtue,  and 
of  illustrious  and  even  royal  descent;  but  whom  misfortunes  had 
reduced  to  seek  a  subsistence  by  manual  labor. 

Alexander  had  hitherto  borne  his  good  fortune  with  singular  and 
becoming  moderation.  Happy,  says  Curtius,  had  this  moderation 
attended  him  through  life ;  but  prosperity  had  not  yet  corrupted 
his  ingenuous  mind.  Felix,  si  hac  continentid  nd  ultimum  vitce 
perscverare  potuissd;  sed  nondum  Fortuna  se  animo  ejus  infude- 
rat. 

He  now  directed  his  course  towards  Tyre;  and  desired  to  be 
admitted  into  the  city  to  perform  a  solemn  sacrifice  to  Hercules. 
The  Tyrians  sent  him  a  golden  crown,  as  a  token  of  their  respect 
and  amity,  but  refused  his  request ;  declaring  their  purpose  of 
observing  a  neutral  conduct,  and  maintaining  their  liberty,  while 
the  fate  of  the  Persian  empire  was  in  dependence.  This  city  was 
of  importance  to  Alexander,  as  a  strongly  fortified  station,  which 
gave  him  free  access  to  the  sea  from  all  the  neighboring  coast. 
His  pride,  too,  was  piqued,  and  he  determined  to  make  himself 
master  of  the  place,  at  whatever  cost.  The  city  was  situated  on 
a  small  island,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  main  land.  It  was  for- 
tified by  a  wall  of  immense  strength,  and  of  150  feet  in  height, 
leaving  no  space  between  its  base  and  the  sea  which  surrounded 
it  on  every  side.  It  was,  therefore,  unassailable  from  the  quarter 
of  the  land,  imless  by  filling  up  the  intermediate  distance  by  a 
mole  or  pier,  extending  from  the  shore  to  the  foot  of  the  walls. 
This  operation,  the  more  difficult  that  the  water  was  of  consid- 
erable depth,  was  resolutely  undertaken  by  the  Macedonians.  The 
labor  and  the  fatigue  attendant  on  its  execution  were  incredible,  for 
they  had  to  do  with  an  enemy,  whose  spirit  and  resolution  were 
equal  to  their  own,  and  who  possessed  every  advantage  that  the 
strength  and  height  of  their  fortifications,  as  well  as  a  numerous 
armament  of  galleys,  could  give  them  for  annoying  the  assailants 


CH   IV. J  FALL  OF  TYRE  .VXD  GAZA.  185 

the  works  were  destroyed  as  soon  as  reared;  nor  could  the 
Macedonians  ever  have  succeeded  in  their  enterprise,  had  they 
not  collected  from  all  the  neighhoring  sea-ports  now  under  their 
control,  a  naval  force  to  heat  oft'  the  Tyrian  galleys,  and  thus  pro- 
tect the  operations  of  the  besieging  army.  By  incredible  perse- 
verance, the  mole  was  at  length  completed,  in  the  seventh  month 
of  the  siege:  the  engines  of  the  Greeks  assailed  the  walls  on  one 
side,  while  the  ships  of  war  made  a  vigorous  attack  on  one  of  the 
piers  of  the  city  in  the  opposite  quarter.  A  large  breach  was  at 
length  effected,  and  the  Macedonians  entered  the  city,  putting  all 
to  the  sword  who  opposed  them.  The  detail  of  this  seige  by 
Arrian  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  narratives  which  the  writings 
of  the  ancients  have  preserved  to  us. 

Alexander,  incensed  at  the  opposition  he  had  met  with,  and  the 
losses  his  army  had  sustained,  forgot  his  usual  clemency.  He  order- 
ed the  city  to  be  burnt  to  the  ground;  8000  of  the  inhabitants  had 
been  put  to  the  sword,  in  the  final  assault  and  entry  of  the  Mace- 
donians ;  of  the  prisoners  taken  with  arms  in  their  hands,  2000 
were  crucified,  and  the  rest,  to  the  amount  of  30,000,  sold  as 
slaves.  The  conduct  of  Alexander  was  yet  more  inhuman  on 
the  taking  of  Gaza,  which  immediately  followed  the  capture  and 
demolition  of  Tyre.*  That  city  was  deemed  impregnable,  from 
its  elevated  situation  on  the  summit  of  a  steep  hill,  and  from  the 
great  strength  of  its  fortifications.  It  was  yet  better  defended  by 
its  garrison,  and  the  intrepidity  of  its  commander,  Belis,  who 
resolved  to  resist  the  invaders  to  the  last  extremity.  The  military 
engines  employed  against  Tyre  were  now  planted  against  the 
fortifications  of  Gaza.  In  a  sally  from  the  town,  the  besieged  set 
fire  to  the  works  of  the  Greeks,  and  in  a  desperate  conflict, 
attended  with  great  slaughter  on  both  sides,  Alexander  himself 
was  dangerously  wounded  in  the  shoulder  by  a  heavy  dart  thrown 
from  a  catapult.  At  length,  after  repeated  assaults,  the  city  was 
taken  by  storm,  and  its  brave  inhabitants  perished  almost  to  a  man. 
The    governor,  Betis,  whose    noble    defence  of  his    country  was 


"It  is  proper  here  to  nionlioii,  that  .Inse[)hus  is  the  only  writer  wlio  relates 
nn  e.xtraordinaiy  scene  between  .'Me.xander  and  (he  hi<jh-])riest  of  tlie  Jews. 
Tliis  historian  informs  us,  that,  after  the  taking  of  Tyre,  the  conqueror  pursued 
his  coiitse  to  Jerusalem,  which  had  incurred  his  resentment,  from  the  refusal 
U)  furnish  supplies  to  his  army  durinnr  the  siege  of  Tyre.  Jaddua,  the  high- 
priest  of  the  Jews,  arrayed  in  liis  pontifical  vestments,  went  forth  to  meet  him 
in  solemn  procession.  The  king,  as  is  said,  no  sooner  beheld  tiiis  venerable 
figure,  who  wore  a  ^itre  inscribed  on  the  front  with  the  sacred  name  of  Jeho- 
vah, than  he  prostrated  himself  at  his  feet.  Flis  courtiers  e.xpressing  their 
surprise  and  even  offence  at  this,  which  they  deemed  a  deirrading  conduct  in 
their  sovereign,  '•  Do  not  wonder,"  said  lie,  "  at  what  you  now  see;  this  same 
venerable  man  appeared  to  nie  at  Dium.  in  Macedonia,  and  assured  me  that 
the  God  whom  he  served  would  give  me  the  sovereignty  of  the  Persian  em|)ire." 
It  is  a  sufTicient  confutation  of  this  story  to  remark,  that  ncitlu'r  .Xrrian  nor  any 
other  of  tlie  professed  hisfori.iiis  of  Alexniider  make  the  smallest  mention  of  iL 
See  U Exaiiien  Critique  dcs  Jlistvircs  iV  .Ucxandre. 

vcL.  I.  24 


186  tr.Mvr.rvSAi.  histouv.  [hook  ii 

worthy  of  the  a|)j)]aii.se  even  of  ati  enemy,  was  draoij^ed  round  the 
walls  of  the  city  at  the  wheels  of  Alexander's  chariot.  "  The 
king,"  says  Ctn-tins,  "gloried  that,  in  this  instance,  he  imitated 
the  example  of  his  progenitor  Achilles,  in  the  vengeance  he  took 
on  the  (lead  body  of  Hector." 

Darius  had  sent  a  second  embassy  to  Alexander,  while  he  was 
engaged  in  the  siege  of  Tyre.  The  Persian  now  assumed  a  hum- 
bler tone.  He  ofiered  ten  thousand  talents  for  the  ransom  of  his 
mother  and  his  queen,  and  he  agreed  to  give  Alexander  his. 
daughter  Statira  in  marriage,  with  all  the  Asiatic  provinces  to  the 
w^estward  of  the  Euphrates  for  her  portion.  When  these  terms 
were  made  known  to  the  Macedonian  officers,  Parmenio  could 
not  help  remarking,  that,  were  he  Alexander,  he  would  not  hesi- 
tate a  moment  to  accept  of  them:  "And  I,"  replied  the  king, 
"might  think  so  too,  were  I  Parmenio." 

The  views  of  Alexander  were  now  directed  to  the  conquest  of 
Egypt.  In  a  council  of  war  which  he  held  after  the  taking  of 
Tyre,  he  laid  open  to  his  officers  the  plan  of  policy  which  directed 
his  measures,  both  in  the  making  himself  master  of  the  whole 
coast  of  Phoenicia  and  of  Egypt — measures  which  appear  at  first 
sight  to  be  deviations  from  his  principal  object,  the  reduction  of 
the  Persian  empire.  He  wisely  judged  that  the  main  obstacle  to 
the  accompiislnnent  of  this  end  was  the  naval  force  of  the  Persians 
and  the  command  they  had  both  of  the  Phoenician  and  Egyptian 
sea-coasts,  along  with  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  whence  they  could  at 
aJl  limes,  from  a  variety  of  quarters,  make  attacks  upon  Greece 
and  Macedonia.  Of  the  allegiance  of  the  Greeks  Alexander  had 
no  assurance.  The  Spartans  were  openly  hostile  to  his  sove- 
reignty. In  these  circumstances,  it  was  obviously  his  wisest  plan 
to  secure,  in  the  first  place,  the  dominion  of  the  sea  ;  when  this 
was  once  attained,  the  conquest  of  Persia,  already  half  achieved, 
appeared  an  object  which  might  be  accomplished  with  ease. 

In  prosecution  of  these  views,  Alexander,  after  leaving  a  strong 
garrison  in  Gaza,  directed  his  course  to  Egypt.  The  whole 
country  submitted  without  opposition.  At  Memphis,  he  made  a 
solemn  sacrifice  to  the  Egyptian  gods,  acknowledging  their  affin- 
ity to  the  deities  of  Greece;  a  stroke  of  wise  policy  which  had  a 
great  eflect  in  conciliating  the  allegiance  of  the  people  to  their  new 
sovereign.  In  the  same  views  he  planned  and  founded  a  great 
city  at  the  mouth  of  the  Nile,  to  which  he  gave  his  own  name  ;  a 
situation  so  happily  chosen,  and  with  such  advantages  of  nature, 
that  widiin  the  space  of  twenty  years,  Alexandria  rose  to  great 
wealth  and  consequence,  and  has  ever  since  maintained  its  rank 
among  the  first  commercial  sea-ports  both  in  ancient  and  in  modern 
times.  Above  twenty  other  cities  bearing  the  name  of  Alexandria 
were  reared  in  the  course  of  Alexander's  various  expeditions.  It 
is  such  works  as  these  which  justly  entitle  the  Macedonian  to  the 
epithet  of  Great.     By  the  cities  which  he  built,  by  rearing  in  the 


CH.    IV. J  BATTLE    OF    ARBELA.  181 

midst  of  deserts  those  nurseries  of  population  and  of  industry,  he 
repaired  the  waste  and  havoc  of  his  conquests.  Without  those 
monuments  of  his  real  glory,  posterity  might  have  agreed  m  be- 
stowing on  him  an  epithet  synonymous  to  that  by  which  he  is  yet 
known  among  the  bramins  of  India — the  mighttj  Murderer. 

The  next  enterprise  of  Alexander,  although  it  has  furmshed 
opposite  constructions,  was  probal)ly  the  fruit  of  the  same  extend- 
ed policy  which  regulated  all  the  designs  of  this  extraordinary 
man.  In  a  beautiful  and  fertile  spot  in  the  interior  of  Lybia,  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  immense  deserts,  stood  the  temple  of 
Jupiter  Amnion,  whose  oracle  had  the  same  authority  and  fame 
among  the  African  and  Asiatic  nations  that  the  temple  of  Delphos 
enjoyed  in  Greece.  Alexander  had  always  encouraged  a  popular 
superstitious  belief,  which  he  found  eminently  subservient  to  his 
scliemcs  of  ambition,  that  ho  owed  his  own  birth  to  an  intrigue  of' 
Jupiter  with  his  mother  Olympias.  The  wiser  part  of  his  subjects, 
no  doubt,  treated  this  fiction  with  the  ridicule  it  deserved;  but  it 
seemed  an  object  of  moment  to  give  it  force  and  credit  with  the 
multitude,  and  in  particular  with  the  barbarous  nations  against 
whom  his  enterprises  were  directed.  Nothing  seemed  so  proper 
to  this  end  as  tiie  voice  of  the  Lybian  oracle,  the  testimony  of 
Jupiter  himself,  acknowledging  the  king  for  his  genuine  offspring. 
•  The  difllcuUics  of  the  enterprise,  in  conducting  a  great  army 
through  an  hundred  leagues  of  sandy  desert,  weighed  nothing  in 
the  scale  with  such  an  object.  lie  secretly  procured  every  neces- 
sary information  regardir/g  his  route,  and  even  employed  guides 
without  the  knowledge  of  his  army,  that  he  might  appear  solely 
conducted  by  the  aid  of  heaven  to  the  meritorious  and  pious  object 
of  his  journey."  Two  dragons,  according  to  Ptolemy,  or  two 
ravens,  as  Aristobulus  related,  were  the  sole  directors  of  liis  course. 
The  oracle  was  prudently  instructed  and  prepared  for  his  recep- 
tion, and  the  enterprise  (of  course)  ended  to  his  wish,  in  a  direct 
and  solemn  acknowledgment  of  his  heavenly  descent. 

Returning  from  his  African  expedition,  Alexander  now  traversed 
Assyria,  and,  passing  the  Tigris  and  Euj)hrates  without  op|iosition, 
came  up  with  the  Persian  monarch  at  the  head  of  700,000  men, 
near  to  the  village  of  Arbela.  Before  assembling  this  immense 
army,  Darius  had  again  earnestly  solicited  for  peace.  He  offered 
to  Alexander,  along  with  his  daughter,  a  still  greater  cession  of 
territory,  and  the  sum  of  10,000  talents:  but  tlie  ambition  of  the 
Macedonian  was  unbounded,  and  he  rejected  all  terms  but  those 
of  implicit  submission.  The  Macedonian  army  did  not  exceed 
40,000  men.  It  was  towards  the  close  of  day  when  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  prodigious  host  of  the  Persians,  which  extended 
over  an  Immense  plain  to  the  utmost  distance  that  the  eye  could 
reach.  Even  so:ne  of  Alexander's  bravest  ofllcers  were  apjialled 
with  this  sight,  and  Parmcnio  counselled  him,  as  his  wisest  plan, 
to    attack    them    in    the    night,    when    the    inequality    of   numbers 


188  UMVKUS.VI,  IIISTOFiY  [bOOK   II 

might  jc  the  loss  scon  and  felt  on  both  sides.  Cut  Alexander^ 
with  more  sagacity,  conjectured  that  tl^p  Persians  would  prepare 
themselves  against  such  an  attack,  and  that  it  was  a  better  policy 
to  wait  till  the  day-break,  when  they  would  find  their  enemy  ex- 
hausted with  the  liiligue  of  watching  during  the  night  under  arms, 
while  his  own  troops,  with  proper  attention  to  their  necessary 
refreshment,  would  encounter  them  with  vigor  and  alacrity. 

The  issue  corresponded  with  this  sagacious  foresight.  The 
attack  was  made  at  day-break  with  an  ardor  and  impetuosity  orj 
the  part  of  the  Greeks,  which,  in  the  first  onset,  threw  the  fore- 
most ranks  of  the  Persian  army  back  in  confusion  upon  the  main 
body,  and  completely  restrained  and  rendered  ineflcctual  its  ope- 
rations. Disorder,  once  begun,  was  propagated  like  an  electrical 
shock  through  the  whole  mass,  and  the  decisive  victory  at  Arabela 
was  purchased  even  with  less  eflbrt  than  had  attended  the  contest 
at  Issus,  or  that  on  the  banks  of  the  Granicus.  The  numbers 
of  the  Persians  that  fell  at  Arbela  are  estimated  by  Arrian  at 
300,000,  while  the  loss  of  the  Macedonians  did  not  exceed  1200. 

Dai'ius  now  fled  from  province  to  province,  while  the  whole 
country  submitted  to  the  conqueror.  In  this  situation,  the  ill-fated 
monarch,  a  fugitive,  abandoned  by  his  troops  and  closely  pursued 
by  Alexander,  was  finally  betrayed  by  Bessus,  one  of  his  own 
satraps.  He  dismissed  a  body  of  Greeks  who  were  his  guards, 
and  who,  from  personal  attachment,  followed  him  through  all  his 
disasters,  lest  the  preference  shown  to  foreign  soldiers  might 
offend  his  native  subjects.  In  this  deserted  situation,  he  was  sur- 
prised and  assassinated  by  Bessus.  Polystratus,  a  Macedonian, 
tieceived  his  last  words,  \\hich  were  an  expression  of  gratitude  to 
Alexander  for  the  humane  treatment  he  had  bestowed  on  his 
mother,  his  wife,  and  his  children.  There  is  a  chasm  in  the  nar- 
"alive  of  Quintus  Curtius  at  that  passage  which  relates  the  death 
of  Darius,  and  it  has  been  supplied  by  some  one  of  his  editors 
upon  the  authority  of  Plutarch.  The  inserted  passage  is  singu- 
laily  beautiful,  and  altogether  worthy  of  the  pen  of  an  ancient 
classic.  It  informs  us  that  Polystratus  having  gone  aside  to  a 
foimtain  to  quench  his  thirst,  saw  hard  by  a  mean  wagon,  in 
which  lay  a  wounded  man,  to  appearance  in  the  agonies  of  death. 
There  was  no  attendant  near.  On  approaching,  he  perceived  that 
it  was  the  king  of  the  Persians,  who  lay  stretched  upon  a  skin, 
covered  with  wounds.  When  Polystratus  came  near,  he  opened 
his  eyes,  and  feebly  asked  of  him  a  draught  of  water,  which  when 
he  bad  received,  "  Whrever  thou  art,"  said  he,  "who  hast  done 
me  this  office  of  humanity,  it  is  the  last  of  my  misfortunes  that  I 
can  offer  thee  no  return.  But  Alexander  will  requite  thee  fer  it  ; 
and  may  the  gods  reward  him  for  that  generous  compassion  which, 
though  an  enemy,  he  has  shown  to  me  and  to  my  unfortunate  kin- 
dred. Take,"  said  he,  "  this  hand  as  the  pledge  of  my  gratitude." 
So  saying,  he  grasped  the  hand  of  Polystratus,  and  immediately 


CH.   IV.]  ALEXANDER.  189 

expirejj.*  Such  was  the  end  of  Daiiiis  Codomannus  :  Quid 
hujus  conditione  inconstantius  ant  miUabirnis^  qui  nuper  inter 
felices  felicissimus,  max  inter  miseros  mis  rrimus!  Of  this  prince 
it  may  he  truly  said  that  he  merited  a  better  fate.  The  tender 
and  humane  alfections  formed  a  strong  ingredient  in  his  nature. 
When  we  consider  him  stripped  of  his  dominions,  his  crown  and 
life  sacrificed  to  the  insatiable  ambition  of  an  unprovoked  invader — • 
to  forgive  was  much;  but  an  emotion  of  gratitude  to  that  enemy, 
expressed  with  his  latest  breath,  indicated  a  generosity  of  soul 
which  is  scarcely  to  be  papalleled. 

Alexander  was  now  master  of  the  Persian  empire.  He  passed 
from  Babylon  to  Susa,  and  thence  to  Persepolis.  But  the  immense 
riches,  of  which  his  arm)-  now  made  their  spoil,  corrupted  and 
relaxed  the  military  discipline.  The  Macedonians  assumed  the 
Asiatic  manners  ;  and  Alexander  himself  gave  way  without  restraint 
to  every  species  of  debauchery  and  intemperance.  In  the  mad- 
ness of  intoxication,  he  set  fire  to  the  royal  palace  of  Persepolis, 
at  the  instigation  of  the  courtesan  Thais,  who  boasted  that  a 
woman  had  belter  avenged  the  injuries  the  Persians  had  done  the 
Greeks  than  all  their  generals.  Daily  instances  of  the  most  un- 
bounded vanity,  and  even  of  cruelty  and  ingratitude,  disgraced  the 
conqueror  of  the  East.  Without  those  fresh  supplies  of  troops 
which  from  time  to  time  arrived  from  Macedonia,  the  shameful 
corruption  of  manners  which  pervaded  his  army  could  not  have 
failed  to  animate  even  those  dissolute  and  indolent  Asiatics  to  a 
recovery  of  their  freedom  by  exterminating  their  invaders. 

But  ambition,  the  most  powerful  antidote  against  the  contagion 
of  luxury,  was  the  darling  passion  of  Alexander.  Amidst  all  the 
enervating  pleasures  of  Persepolis,  the  Macedonian  was  meditating 
new  enterprises  and  more  extensive  conquests.  The  son  of 
Jupiter  could  do  nothing  less  than  follow  the  footsteps  of  his 
brotbers  Hercules  and  Bacchus.  He  now  projected  the  conquest 
of  India,  firmly  persuaded  that  the  gods  had  decreed  him  the 
sovereignty  of  the  whole  habitable  world.  The  Anne  of  his  victo- 
ries had  preceded  him  in  his  course,  and  lie  penetrated  without 
much  opposition  to  the  banks  of  the  Indus,  receiving  in  his  pro- 
gress the  submission  of  most  of  the  native  princes,  who  deprecated 
his  hostility,  and  sought  to  gain  his  favor  by  large  subsidies  and 
presents.  One  of  these,  however,  named  Porus,  a  prince  of 
great  spirit  and  magnanimity,  disdained  to  submit  to  the  invader, 
and  maintained  a  contest  for  his  independence  which  did  equal 
honor  to  his  personal  courage  and  conduct  as  a  general.  Porus 
encountered  the  Macedonians  with  a  large  and  well-disciplined 
army  ;  but  the  event  was  unsuccessful,  and  in  a  decisive  engage- 
ment on  the  banks  of  the  Hydaspes,  the  Indians  were  defeated 


•  Q.  Curtiua,  in  fine,  lib.  v.  c.  13. 


190  U.MVKIISAL    IlISTOUy.  [UOOK    II 

with  llic3  loss  of  20,000  foot  and  3000  liorso.  The  captive  nrince 
being  hi()n;j;ht  into  the  presence  of  his  conqueror,  Alexander  gen- 
erously jjiaised  him  for  tiie  courage  and  ahiliiy  he  had  displayed, 
and  concluded  by  asking  him  in  wiial  manner  he  wished  and  ex- 
pected to  be  treated.  "  As  a  king,"  said  Porus.  Struck  widi 
the  magnanimity  of  this  answer,  Alexander  declared  he  should 
not  be  frustrated  of  his  wishes,;  for  from  that  moment  he  should 
regard  him  as  a  sovereign  prince,  and  think  himself  honored  by 
his  friendship  and  alliance.  As  a  proof  of  his  amity,  ^e  added  to 
the  kingdom  of  Porus  some  of  the  adjoining  provinces,  from  which 
he  had  expelled  the  princes  who  had  been  his  ancient  enemies. 

The  Macedonian,  as  the  monuments  of  his  Indian  conquests 
built  two  large  cities,  to  one  of  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Nicaea, 
and  to  the  other  of  Bucephalia  ;  the  latter  in  honor  of  his  famous 
horse  Bucephalus,  who  died  there.  He  now  advanced  into  the 
interior  of  India,  passing  the  rivers  Hyphasis  and  Acesine,  eastern 
branches  of  the  Indus  ;  and  his  accustomed  good  fortune  constantly- 
attending  him,  he  would  have  pursued  his  course  to  the  Eastern 
Ocean,  had  the  spirits  of  his  army  kept  pace  with  his  ambition. 
But  those  barbarous  nations,  though  unable  to  resist  his  progress, 
were  not  subdued.  It  was  impossible  to  retain  the  territory  he 
had  overrun  ;  and  his  troops,  foreseeing  no  end  to  their  labors, 
positively  refused  to  proceed.  With  a  sensible  mortification  to  his 
pride,  he  was  forced  to  return  to  die  Indus,  after  rearing,  as  mon- 
uments of  his  conquests,  twelve  altars  upon  the  eastern  banks  of 
the  Hyphasis,  of  enormous  height,  on  which  he  inscribed  his  own 
name,  with  those  of  his  father  Ammon  and  his  brothers  Hercules 
and  Apollo.  He  is  said  also  to  have  traced  a  camp  in  the  same 
place  of  three  times  the  necessary  extent,  surrounding  it  with  a 
strong  rampart  and  fosse  :  and  to  have  built  in  it  enormous  stables 
for  horses,  with  the  mangers  of  a  most  extraordinary  height.  He 
is,  in  like  manner,  said  to  have  caused  suits  of  armor  to  be  buried 
m  the  earth,  of  size  far  exceeding  the  human  proportions,  with 
bedsteads,  and  all  other  utensils  on  a  similar  gigantic  scale  ;  follies 
which  would,  indeed,  exceed  all  belief,  did  they  not  rest  oii  the 
authority  of  authors,  whose  testimony  appears  hardly  liable  to 
suspicion. 

Alexander  now  determined  to  turn  his  disappointment  to  the 
best  avail  by  exploring  the  countries  washed  by  the  Indus  in  its 
course  to  the  ocean.  In  this  view  a  numerous  armament  of  ships 
was  partly  built  and  partly  collected  on  the  difTerent  branches  of 
that  great  river,  and  the  command  of  it  given  to  Nearchus,  a 
native  of  Crete,  a  man  of  talents  and  genius,  in  whom  Alexander 
found  an  able  and  enterprising  coadjutor.  On  board  of  this  fleet 
the  king  himself  embarked,  with  a  large  part  of  his  troops,  while 
the  rest  followed  by  land  along  the  course  of  the  river ;  the  fleet 
and  army  thus  aiding  each  other's  progress.  In  this  expedition, 
which  was  of  several  months'  duration,  the  Greeks  encountered 


CH.   IV.]  NEARCHUS.  191 

considerable  opposition  from  the  warlike  tribes  of  Indians  through 
whose  territories  they  forced  their  way. 

Having  at  length  reached  the  ocean,  at  the  sight  of  which 
Alexander  is  reported  to  have  shed  tears,  as  finding  here  an  im- 
passable limit  to  his  conquests,  he  directed  Nearchus  to  proceed 
along  the  Indian  shore  to  tlie  Persian  Gulf,  while  he  determined 
to  march  with  the  army  towards  Persepolis  and  Babylon,  through 
the  desert  plains  of  Gedrosia,  and  the  more  cultivated  country  of 
Caramania.  Both  plans  were  accomplished.  Nearchus,  after  a 
voyage  of  seven  months,  arrived  in  the  Euphrates,  while  xVlex- 
ander,  within  the  same  time,  amidst  incredible  fatigues  and  perils, 
and  with  the  loss  of  three-fourths  of  his  army,  reached  the  fron- 
tier of  Persia.  On  his  arrival  at  Susa,  where  he  was  received 
with  the  honors  due  to  the  sovereign  of  the  empire  and  the  con- 
queror of  the  eastern  world,  he  married  Statira,  the  daughter  of 
Darius,  and  at  the  same  time  celebrated  the  nuptials  of  eighty  of 
his  chief  officers  with  a  like  number  of  Persian  ladies  of  distin- 
guished rank,  on  each  of  whom  he  bestowed  a  suitable  dowry. 
The  public  joy,  on  occasion  of  dicse  splendid  festivals,  was  increased 
by  the  arrival  of  Nearchus  at  Susa,  the  report  of  his  successful 
expedition,  and  the  detail  of  those  discoveries  which  were  the 
fruit  of  his  voyage.* 

We  have  hitherto  contemplated  the  character  of  Alexander 
chiefly  in  a  favorable  point  of  view.  It  must  not,  however,  be 
disguised  that  this  character,  ingenuous  upon  the  whole,  and 
worthy  of  admiration,  was  stained  and  deformed  by  extraordinary 
vices  and  defects.  Of  his  inordinate  vanity  we  have  already  seen 
some  striking  proofs.  Of  his  sanguinary  disposition  we  have  like- 
wise had  examples  in  the  barbarous  treatment  of  some  of  his  van- 
quished enemies  ;  but  it  remains  to  be  told  that,  in  the  unbridled 
.rage  and  frenzy  of  his  passions,  he  was  guilty  of  the  most  shock- 
ing cruelty,  combined  with  ingratitude  to  some  of  his  best  friends. 
Philotas,  a  worthy  favorite  of  Alexander,  the  only  remaining  son 
of  his  oldest  and  ablest  general  Parmenio,  had  received  some 
vague  information  of  a  treasonable  design  against  the  life  of  Alex- 
ander, but  delayed  to  mention  it,  probably  from  givnig  no  credit 


*Tlie  journal  of  Nearclius's  voyage,  preserved  to  us  by  Arrinn,  and  founJ 
HI  his  book  upon  Indian  Affairs,  from  the  twentieth  to  the  forty-first  chapter 
mclusivelv,  is  a  most  instructive  and  curious  document.  It  has  been  translated 
and  illustrated  by  an  ample  and  learne<l  commentary  by  Dr.  Vincent.  The 
accounts  wliicii  we  find  in  Arrian  and  in  Strabo,  of  the  state  of  manners  and 
the  condition  of  society  in  India  at  thr  time  of  Alexander's  expedition,  corres- 
pond with  surprisinnr  nccuracy  to  the  present  condition  and  manners  of  the  native 
Hindoos.  The  singular  division  of  the  whole  mass  of  the  people  into  r(uvtes,  dis- 
tinijuished  by  their  occupations  and  modes  of  life,  and  separated  from  each  other 
by  impassable  barriers,  prevailed  at  that  early  period  as  at  present :  and  the  pro- 
gress of  science  and  knowledge  in  many  of  the  useful  and  elegant  arts  gives  every 
presumptive  evidence  of  a  state  of  civilization  extending  to  the  most  remoto 
antiquity. 


192  U.MVKItsAI.  HISTOIIY.  [bOOK   H 

to  the  iiiforiner.  On  llu.'  roiiort  roaching  liis  cars  fif)!)!  a  flirTcroni 
quarter,  Alexaiider,  who  was  told  at  the  same  time  that  Philotas 
had  been  informed  of  the  design  and  refused  to  communicate  it, 
immediately  conceived  the  unworthy  suspicion  that  his  silence 
arose  from  his  own  concern  in  the  conspiracy.  On  no  other 
grounds  Philotas  was  put  to  the  torture,  and,  in  the  agony  of  pain, 
uttering  something  that  bore  the  appearance  of  confc-sing  .lis 
offence,  whi(;h  was  nothing  more  than  a  venial  piece  of  negligence, 
be  was,  by  the  command  of  Alexander,  stoned  to  death.  But 
this  was  not  enough.  The  aged  Parmenio,  wiiom  the  king  con- 
cluded to  be  eitiier  an  accomplice  in  the  crime  of  his  son,  or  at 
least  to  be  incapable  of  ever  forgiving  his  punishment,  was,  by  the 
same  command,  assassinated  in  his  tent.  Clitus,  a  general  cf 
great  ability,  and  to  whom  Alexander  owed  his  life  in  the  battle 
of  the  Granicus,  stood  deservedly,  on  these  accounts,  in  high 
favor  and  esteem  with  his  sovereign,  who  particularly  prized  the 
ingenuous  simplicity  of  his  manners,  and  the  honest  freedom 
with  which  he  was  accustomed  to  utter  his  opinions  or  pro- 
pose his  counsels.  Amidst  the  mirth  of  a  banquet,  while  the 
sycophant  courtiers,  in  extolling  to  the  skies  the  achievements  of 
thfjir  prince,  were  drawing  a  depreciating  comparison  between  the 
merits  of  Philip  and  of  his  son,  this  brave  Macedonian  had,  with 
honest  indignation,  reproved  their  meanness,  and  warmly  supported 
ihe  fame  of  his  ancient  master.  Alexander,  in  a  transport  of 
rage,  seized  a  javelin  from  one  of  the  guards,  and  hurling  it  at  the 
broast  of  Clitus,  struck  him  dead  upon  the  spot.  Tiie  atrocity 
of  the  deed  was  instantly  felt  by  the  king,  and,  in  the  agony  of 
remorse,  he  would  have  turned  the  weapon  against  his  own 
bosom,  had  not  the  attendants  forcibly  prevented  him.  What 
can  we  think  of  the  infamous  servility  of  the  attendant  courtiers, 
who,  to  compose  the  troubled  spirits  of  their  sovereign,  could 
pass  a  solemn  decree  that  the  murder  of  Clitus  was  a  justifiable 
action.-^ 

Yet,  with  the  most  wonderful  inconsistency  of  character,  the 
same  man  whose  vanity  and  arrogance  could  prompt  to  such  out- 
rageous and  criminal  excesses,  appears  to  have  been  possesses!  o/ 
a  moderation  of  mind  that  utterly  disdained  the  gross  flatteries 
wjth  which  his  courtiers  continually  strove  to  corrupt  him.  While 
sailing  down  the  Hydaspes,  Aristobulus,  a  mean  sycophant,  who 
had  composed  a  narration  of  the  king's  battles,  was  reading  to  him 
for  his  amusement  the  account  of  the  Indian  expedition,  in  which 
the  writer  had  exaggerated  in  many  circumstances  palpably  beyond 
the  truth.  Alexander  seized  the  book,  and  threw  it  with  indig- 
nation into  the  river,  telling  the  author  that  he  merited  the  same 
treatment,  for  having  absurdly  endeavored  to  magnify  by  fiction, 
those  deeds  which  needed  no  embellishment  to  attract  the  admi- 
ration of  mankind. 

Arrived   at  Ecbatana,  Alexander  celebrated  his  entry  .into    the 


CII.    IV.]  DEATH    OF    ALEXANDER.  195 

ancient  capital  of  Media  with  magnificent  games  and  festivals,  in 
which  every  refinement  of  luxury  was  contrived  that  could  flatter 
the  senses  or  feed  the  voluptuous  passions.  Whole  days  and 
nights  were  consumed  in  riot  and  debauchery,  in  which  the  mean 
est  soldier  vied  with  his  prince  in  the  most  unrestrained  indulgence. 
Amidst  these  tumultuous  pleasures,  the  death  of  Hephacstion 
whom  Alexander  loved  with  sincere  aflection,  threw  him  into  a 
paroxysm  of  despair.  He  commanded  the  physicians  who  attend- 
ed him  to  be  put  to  death  ;  he  accused  the  gods  as  conspiring 
with  them  to  deprive  him  of  a  life  more  dear  to  him  than  his  own ; 
he  ordered  a  public  mourning,  and  that  the  sacred  fires  should  be 
extinguished  through  all  Asia  ;  an  omen  which  both  his  friends  and 
enemies  regarded  as  of  the  blackest  import. 

The  Chaldean  priests  of  Babylon  had  appropriated  to  their  own 
use  the  riches  and  revenue  of  the  temple  of  lielus,  which  was  the 
ornament  of  that  city,  and  a  great  object  of  superstitious  venera- 
tion. Alexander  had  expressed  a  purpose  of  reforming  this  abuse, 
and  the  Chaldeans,  to  avert  his  design,  had  published  a  prediction 
that  his  entry  into  Babylon  would  be  fatal  to  the  conqueror  of  the 
East.  Alexander  probably  saw  through  this  artifice  and  despised 
it.  He  entered  Babylon  in  triumph,  and  was  so  delighted  with 
the  splendor  of  that  great  city,  that  he  declared  his  purpose  of  mak- 
ing it  the  capital  of  his  empire.  He  there  received  ambassadors 
from  various  regions  of  the  earth,  congratulating  him  on  his  con- 
quests, and  soliciting  his  friendship  and  alliance  :  but  mark  the  force 
of  superstition  even  in  the  greatest  minds.  The  Chalda?an  prophe- 
cy, in  spite  of  reason,  depressed  his  spirits  to  such  a  degree  as  to 
force  him  to  drown  reflection  by  every  species  of  riot  and  debauch- 
ery. The  consequence  was  an  inflammatorv  fever,  which,  after 
a  few  days'  continuance,  put  an  end  to  his  life,  in  the  thirty-third 
year  of  his  age. 

It  is  not  easy  to  form  to  ourselves  a  precise  and  just  idea  of  the 
character  of  Alexander  the  Great.  While  some  authors  have 
attributed  to  him  the  most  extensive  as  well  as  the  soundest  p'ans 
of  policy,  there  are  others  who  have  rated  him  no  higher  than  as 
a  fortunate  madman.  Truth  is  generally  to  be  found  between 
opposite  extremes.  We  cannot,  consistently  with  reason,  say, 
with  ISI.  Montesquieu,  that  that  general  trusted  nothing  to  chancfl 
who,  with  an  army  of  only  thirty-five  thousand  men,  the  sum  of 
seventy  talents,  and  a  single  month's  provisions,  set  out  npon  the 
conquest  of  Asia.  Neither  can  we,  with  the  same  author,  ascribe 
't  to  a  sagacious  policy  that  he  assumed  the  Persian  garb,  imitated 
the  manners  of  that  people,  affected  all  the  ostentatious  splendor 
of  an  Asiatic  monarch,  and  corruj)ted  the  simple  and  virtuous 
habits  of  his  Macedonian  troops  by  every  excess  of  luxury  and 
debauchery.  But  if  we  cannot,  in  these  particulars,  join  in  the 
encomium  bestowed  on  the  profound  policy  of  Alexander,  much 
less  can  we  subscribe  to  the  opinion  of  the  French  sa.irist,  thai 
VOL.    I.  25 


l94  LMVKKSAI,    HISTORY.  [bOOK  II 

the  youth  who,  at  the  age;  of  iwciity-roiw,  had,  in  three  battles, 
won  ihi;  empire  of  Persia  ;  who  was  riiaslcr  of  Greece,  of  Asia, 
and  of  Egyj)t ;  and  who,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years,  built  more 
cities  than  any  other  conqueror  is  recorded  to  have  destroyed, 
merited  no  other  treatment  than  to  be  confined  as  a  madman.*  A 
judjiment  of  this  kind  may  he  allowed  to  jjass  in  a  satire  of  Boileau, 
but  has  no  weigiit  in  the  balance  of  sober  reflection.  Guifled  by 
a  spirit  of  just  criticism  in  the  perusal  of  the  history  of  this  great 
man,  of  which  we  have  here  exhibited  some  general  outlines,  we 
shall  discern  the  characteristics  of  a  singular  genius  taking  its  direc- 
tion from  unbounded  ambition  :  an  excellent  and  ingenuous  nature 
corrupted  at  length  by  an  unvarying  current  of  success  ;  and  a 
shocking  example  of  the  violence  of  the  passions,  when  eminence 
of  fortune  removes  all  restraint,  or  flattery  stimulates  to  their  un- 
controlled indulgence. 

The  extent  of  the  views  of  Alexander,  and  the  reach  of  his 
genius,  may  be  estimated  from  those  five  schemes  which  he  had 
entered  in  his  table-book  as  enter|)rises  which  he  still  purposed  to 
accomplish  for  establishins;  and  securing  the  empire  he  had  founded. 
These  were,  1.  That  1000  ships  of  war  should  be  built  in  Phoe- 
nicia and  Cyprus,  for  the  conquest  of  the  Carthaginian  empire, 
and  of  all  the  states  on  the  African  and  European  coasts  of  the 
Mediterranean  Sea.  2.  That  a  high  road  should  be  made  from 
Egypt  along  the  African  coast  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  and 
garrisons  and  cities  built  along  it  at  convenient  stations  : — a  facility 
of  communication  between  the  distant  parts  of  an  empire  so  ex- 
tended, he  judged  to  be  absolutely  essential  to  its   preservation. 

3.  That  six  magnificent  temples  should  be  built  in  various  parts 
of  the  empire,  to  promote  an  amicable  consonance  in  the  great 
principles  of  religion,  and  reliance  on  the  divine  government  ;  with- 
out which,  as  a  fundamental  persuasion,  independent  of  all  the 
various  modes  of  worship,  no  empire  can  long  exist  or'flourish. 

4.  That  sea-j)orts,  harbors,  and  arsenals,  should  be  construe  ted 
in  every  convenient  situation,  for  the  reception  and  security  of  tne 
fleets.  5.  That  all  the  new  cities  he  had  founded  should  be 
planted  with  colonies,  and  interchanges  made  by  lran«;poiting  the 
Asiatics  into  Europe  and  Africa,  the  Euiopcans  and  Af-'cans  into 
Asia.  This,  which  tended  to  the  union  and  consolidatici  of  all 
the  different  parts  of  his  emi-»ire,  was  the  main  end  and  centre  of 
all  the  projects  of  this  extraordinary  man.  His  object,  in  short, 
was  universal  empire.  Whether  that  object  was  practicable  or 
attainable  need  not  be  inquired  ;  it  was  so  in  his  opinion,  and  all 
his  designs  and  measures  tended  to  that  end.     This   object  U   the 


Heureux,  si  de  son  lems  pour  des  bonnes  raisons, 
l<a  Macedoine  eut  eu  des  petiles  inaisons. 

BoiI-KAO 


eU.   IV.]  DEATH    OF    ALEXANDER.  195 

key  to  his  whole  conduct,  and  reconciles  every  apparent  anomaly 
of  his  character:  it  accounts  for  his  desire  to  be  held  of  divine 
origin,  while  his  mind  had  no  tincture  of  credulity;  for  his  gentle 
and  conciliating  manners  opposed  to  the  arrogance  of  his  temper, 
im[)atient  of  control  or  opposition;  for  his  generosity,  clemency, 
and  munificence  ;  for  his  frantic  resentment  of  every  thing  that 
tended  to  mortify  his  pride  ;  for  the  assumption  of  the  Eastern 
dress,  and  imitation  of  the  Eastern  manners,  and  the  studied  abo- 
lition of  all  distinctions  between  his  native  subjects,  and  the  nations 
whom  he  subdued. 

Alexander  on  his  death-bed  had  appointed  no  successor,  but  had 
given  his  ring  to  Pcrdiccas,  one  of  his  officers,  and  his  principn' 
favorite  after  the  death  of  Hephaestion.  When  his  courtiers  asked 
him  to  whom  he  wished  the  empire  to  devolve  upon  his  death,  he 
replied.  To  the  most  icorthy;  and  he  is  said  to  have  added,  that  he 
foresaw  this  bequest  would  prepare  for  him  verv  extraordinary  fune- 
ral ritf  s.  He  left  by  Barsine,  the  widow  of  Memnon  of  Rhodes,  a 
son  named  Hercules;  he  had  a  brother,  Aridasus,  a  weak  prince, 
whom  he  carried  along  with  him  in  his  expeditions;  and  his  Queen 
Roxana,  the  daughter  of  Oxyartes,  a  Bactrian,  was  with  child  at  his 
death.  By  Statira,  the  daughter  of  Darius  Codomannus,  he  had  no 
children,  nor  by  Parisatis,  tlie  daughter  of  Ochus.  His  principal 
officers  having  helil  a  council  upon  his  death,  it  was  agreed  llint 
the  crown  should  be  conferred  on  Aridrcus,  who  took  the  name  of 
Philip;  and  it  was  resolved  that  the  child  of  Roxana,  if  a  son, 
should  share  the  empire  with  him.  She  was  soon  after  delivered 
of  a  son,  who  was  named  Alexander,  aud  whose  right  was  accord- 
ingly acknowledged. 

This  settlement  of  the  empire  jointly  upon  a  weak  man  and  an 
infant  was  the  result  of  the  jealousy  of  the  principal  officers,  who 
could  not  azree  upon  the  choice  of  any  one  of  themselves,  while 
each  thought  he  had  an  equal  claim  with  his  competitors.  Those 
of  the  most  moderate  ambition  would  have  been  contented  with  the 
sovereignty  of  some  of  the  provinces;  while  others  aimed  at  an 
undivided  empire.  Among  the  latter  was  Perdiccas,  who,  from 
the  clrcuinsfance  of  receiving  the  ring  of  Alexander,  was  considered 
as  tutor  of  the  princes,  and  as  such  had  a  share  of  the  regency;  but 
this  ambitious  man  interpreted  the  king's  gift  as  a  designation  of  him 
for  his  successor. 

His  policy  was  singular;  he  brought  about  a  division  of  the  whole 
empire  into  thirty-three  different  governments,  among  the  chief  offi- 
cers of  Alexander;  men  of  very  different  measure  of  abilities,  and 
who  he  foresaw  would  be  for  ever  at  variance.  His  aid  must,  there- 
fore, probably  be  courted,  and  he  proposed  by  an  artful  management 
to  weaken  all,  and  thus  reduce  them  by  degrees  under  his  own 
authority.  In  this  division  of  the  cmjiire,  the  original  monarchy 
of  Macedon,  with  all  the  provinces  gained  by  Philip,  together  with 
Greece,  were  allotted  to  Antipater  and  Craterus.     Paphlagonia  and 


1J>6  U.NIVKIISAL    IIISTORV.  [bOOK   It 

Cap|);ulo(ia  ucro  assigned  to  Eiimcnes;  Kgypt  to  Ptolemy;  and 
to  Antigontis,  Pliiygia,  Lycia,  and  Pampliylia.  Lysiinaclms  had 
Thrace  with  t^le  adjacent  countries  n])on  the  Euxine.  To  Pcrdic- 
cas  himself,  no  (hstinct  share  of  the  empire  was  assigned  in  govern- 
ment; he  contented  himself  witli  his  influence  in  the  regency  and 
the  command  of  the  household  troops. 

On  the  histoiy  of  the  successors  of  Alexander,  the  Abb^;  Con- 
dillar  has  made  a  very  just  reflection:  "  VV^e  are  interested,"  says 
he  "  in  the  revolutions  of  the  Grecian  states  ;  our  admiration  is 
excited  by  the  conquests  of  Alexander;  but  we  can  scarcely  fix 
our  attention  on  the  history  of  his  successors.  Yet  a  vast  theatre 
is  opened  to  our  view  —  a  variety  of  scenes  and  multiplied  catas- 
trophes. How  then  does  it  happen  that  the  history  of  those  tians- 
actions  is  less  interesting  than  the  fate  of  Lacedjemon?  It  is  not 
the  magnitude  of  an  object  that  renders  it  truly  interesting.  A 
large  picture  is  often  displeasing  from  the  very  circumstance  of  its 
greatness.  We  lose  the  connection  of  its  parts,  because  the  eye 
cannot  take  them  in  at  once.  Still  less  will  a  large  picture  give 
us  pleasure,  if  every  portion  of  it  presents  a  difierent  scene  or 
action,  each  unconnected  with  the  other."  Such  is  the  case  with 
the  history  of  the  successors  of  Alexander.  The  multitude  of 
subordinate  governors  who  share  and  dismember  this  vast  empire, 
every  one  of  whom  we  behold  pursuing  separate  schemes  of  ambi- 
tion, throws  a  confusion  upon  the  whole  picture,  which  it  requires 
the  most  laborious  attention  to  dissipate  ;  and  even  when  that  is 
accomplished,  at  the  expense  of  much  fatigue  and  trouble,  the  end 
to  be  gained,  either  in  instruction  or  pleasure,  is  not  adequate  to 
the  cost.  In  the  revolutions  of  Greece,  our  views  are  continually 
fixed  upon  the  most  striking  and  interesting  objects;  the  develop- 
ment of  the  human  mind,  in  its  advances  from  rudeness  to  refine- 
ment ;  the  progress  of  government  and  legislation  ;  the  gradual 
changes  of  national  manners;  the  exercise  of  the  noblest  passions, 
tlie  love  of  country  and  of  ingenuous  freedom;  the  display  of  emi- 
nent virtues  and  great  abilities.  But  in  this  motley  and  confused 
drama  of  the  dismembered  empire  of  Alexander,  there  is  neither 
a  people  nor  a  country  for  whom  our  interest  is  excited:  there  is 
neither  a  display  of  talents  nor  of  virtues.  At  the  head  of  the 
empire  we  behold  two  sovereigns,  the  one  a  fool,  the  other  an 
infant ;  an  unprincipled  and  ambitious  regent  with  no  defined  or 
legal  authority;  a  multitude  of  inferior  governors,  each  aiming  at  an 
extension  of  his  own  power  by  the  overtlirow  of  his  rivals;  and, 
finally,  the  consequence  of  their  contentions  and  intrigues,  in  the 
extinction  of  all  the  family  and  kindred  of  Alexander. 

There  is,  however,  one  exception  to  these  barbarous  and  dis* 
gusting  scenes.  Among  the  numerous  governors,  Ptolemy,  sur- 
named  Soter,  a  Macedonian  of  mean  extraction,  had  Egypt,  as  we 
have  remarked,  for  his  share  of  the  empire.  He  owed  his  eleva- 
iion  to  his  merit,  and    had  served  as  a  general  under  Alexander 


CH.   IV. J  SUCCESSORS    OF    ALEXANDER.  191 

from  the  commencement  of  the  Persian  war.  While  he  aimed  at 
independence  as  a  sovereign,  he  had  too  mnch  good  sense  to  em- 
broil himself  with  the  disputes  of  ilie  oilier  governors,  but  applied 
himself  with  earnestness  and  success  to  the  establishment  of  his 
own  authority,  and  the  advancement  of  the  happiness  of  his  people. 
Perdiccas  judged  that  he  would  find  in  Ptoleiiiy  the  chief  obstacle 
to  his  ambiiious  views;  and  he  therefore  turned  his  attention  first 
10  the  reduction  of  Egypt.  In  this  enterprise  he  had  the  authority 
of  the  kings,  on  the  plausible  |)retext,  that  Ptolemy  had  revoked 
from  their  sovereignly,  and  made  himself  an  independent  monarch. 
But  the  attempt  was  unsuccessful;  he  found  it  impracticable  to 
make  impression  on  the  Egyptian  frontier,  which  Ptolemy  defended 
with  a  j)0vverful  army;  his  troops,  disgusted  wiih  the  severe  and 
haughty  manner  of  their  leader,  and  exasperated  with  their  ill 
success,  mutinied,  and  assassinated  him  ;  and  transferred  their 
services  and  allegiance  to  the  governor  of  Egypt. 

Ptolemy,  whose  re|)utation  was  enhanced  by  the  defeat  of  this 
enterprise,  might  now  have  succeeded  to  the  power  and  authority 
of  Perdiccao,  as  regent,  under  Aridaeus  and  the  infant  prince;  but 
he  wisely  declined  that  dangerous  dignity,  which  could  ad  1  nothing 
to  his  real  power;  and,  on  his  refusal,  it  fell  to  Antipater,  the 
governor  of  iMacedonia.  A  new  division  was  now  made  of  the 
empire;  and  Babylon  and  Assyria  were  assigned  to  Seleucus. 
But  Egypt  siill  remained  under  Ptolemy,  who  had  established  his 
authority  in  that  quarter  u|)on  a  solid  basis. 

Eumenes,  the  governor  of  Ca|)padocia,  a  man  of  great  merit,  and 
firmly  attached  to  the  family  of  Alexander,  was,  from  those  cir- 
cumstances, regarded  with  a  jcakjus  eye  by  the  rest  of  his  col- 
leagues. Antipater,  in  the  quality  of  Regent,  proclaimed  war 
against  him,  and  he  was  betrayed  and  delivered  up  to  Antigonus,  the 
governor  of  Phrygia  and  Lydia,  who  put  him  to  death,  and  seized 
upon  his  states.  Antigonus,  thus  actpiiring  the  connnand  of  a 
great  part  of  the  As'aiic  provinces,  began  to  aspire  to  the  universal 
empire  of  Asia.  He  attacked  and  ravaged  the  dominions  of  the 
conterminous  eovernors.  Seleucus,  the  governor  ol  I>abylon, 
unable  to  make  head  against  him  in  the  field,  Hed  into  Egypt,  and 
humbly  sought  the  aid  and  protection  of  Ptolemy;  who,  alarmed 
at  the  designs  of  Antigonus,  supported  the  fugitive  with  a  power- 
ful army,  and  reinstated  him  in  his  government  ol   Babylon. 

Siileucus  was  beloved  by  his  subjects,  and  the  time  of  his 
return  to  Babylon  became  a  common  e))0(h  through  all  (he  Asiatic 
nations.  It  is  called  the  era  of  the  Selsucidxe,  and  is  fixed  312 
years  before  the  birth  of  Christ.  It  is  made  use  of  all  over  the 
East,  by  Jews,  Christians,  and  Mahometans.  The  Jews  call  it 
the  era  of  contracts;  because,  when  subject  to  tbe  Syro-Macedo- 
nian  princes,  they  were  obliged  to  employ  it  in  all  contracts  and 
civil  deeds.  The  Arabians  term  it  the  era  of  tke  two-lwrncd; 
&  denominaiion   taken   fiom  the  coins  or   medals    of    Seleucus,   ia 


198  UNIVKUSAL    IIISTOHY  [OOOK  II. 

wliid)  lie  is  rcpresoiiled  wiili  horns,  like  those  of  a  ratn.  In  iha 
book  of  the  Maccabees  it  is  called  the  era  of  the  kingdom  of  the 
Greeks. 

Autigonuj,  however,  persisted  in  his  schemes  of  ambition.  He 
sent  his  son,  Demetrius,  with  a  fleet  against  Ptolemy,  which  was 
victorious  in  an  engagement  with  that  of  the  Egyptians.  It  was 
on  this  occasion  that  Aniigonus  and  Demetrius  assumed  to  them- 
selves the  title  of  kings,  in  which  they  were  imitated  by  all  the 
other  governors.  A  league  was  now  formed  against  Antigonug 
and  Demetrius,  by  Ptolemy  and  Seleucus,  in  which  they  were 
joined  by  Cassander,  the  son  of  Anti[)ater,  and  Lysimachus;  the 
former,  governor  of  Macedonia,  and  the  latter  of  Thrace.  The 
battle  of  Ipsus,  in  Phrygia,  decided  the  contest.  Antigonus  was 
killed,  Demetrius  fled  with  the  shattered  remains  of  his  army, 
and  the  conquerors  made  a  ])artition  of  their  dominions.  Ptolemy, 
in  addition  to  Egyj)t  and  Lybia,  had  Arabia,  Coelosyria,  and  Pal- 
estine; and  Cassander  had  Macedonia  and  Greece.  The  share 
of  Lysimachus  was  Thr;ice,  Biihynia,  and  some  other  provinces 
beyond  the  IIelles|)ont.  Seleucus  had  all  the  rest  of  Asia,  to  the 
river  Indus.  This  last  kingdom,  the  most  powerful  and  splendid 
of  the  whole,  was  called  the  kingdom  of  Syria;  of  which  the 
capital,  Antioch,  was  built  by  Seleucus,  and  was  the  residence  of 
the  line  of  inoiwrchs  descended  from  him. 


CHAPTER  V 


Fbnrishing  state  of  Egypt  under  the  Ptolemies — Greece  aOer  the  death  of 
Alexander — Achaian  league — Uevoluti<in  at  LacediPinon — Ambitions  designs 
of  Philip  II.  of  Macedon  draw  on  him  the  vengeance  of  the  Romans — Tlieit 
aid  solicited  by  the  iSUoliuns — Macedon  conquered — Greece  becomes  a  Ro- 
man province. 

We  have  remarked,  that  under  the  first  Ptolemy,  surnamed 
Soter,  the  kingdom  of  Egypt  was  extremely  flourishing.  This 
prince,  a  true  patriot  and  wise  politician,  considered  the  happi- 
ness of  his  i)eople  as  the  first  object  of  government.  A  lover 
himself  of  the  art^  and  sciences,  they  attained,  during  his  reign,  to 
a  decree  of  splendor  which  rivalled  their  state  in  the  most  illumin 
atcd  days  of  Greece.  It  is  remarkable  that  Greece,  which  owed 
hei  first  dawning  of  literature  and  the  arts  to  the  Eg^'ptians,  should 


CII     V'.]  THE    PTOI-EMIES.  19? 

now  contribute  to  polish  and  instruct  her  ancient  masters.  Ptole 
my  Soter  founded  tlie  famous  library  of  Alexandria,*  that  imniRnst 
treasury  of  literature,  which,  in  ihe  time  of  his  son  Ptolemy  Phila 
delphus,!  contained  above  100,000  volumes.  It  was  siill  enlargec 
by  the  succeeding  monarchs  of  the  same  race,  till  it  amounted,  al 
length,  as  Sirabo  informs  us,  to  700,000  volumes;  a  collection 
quite  prodigious,  when  we  consider  the  comparative  labor  and 
expense  of  amassing  books  before  the  invention  of  printing,  and 
since  that  era.  This  immense  library  was  burnt  to  ashes  in  the 
war  which  Julius  Csesar  waged  with  the  inhabitants  of  Alexandria. 
Adjoining  to  this  was  a  smaller  library,  which  escaped  the  con- 
flagration at  that  time,  and  which  became,  in  the  course  of  ages, 
very  considerable ;  but,  as  if  fate  had  opposed  the  progress  ant 
continuance  of  Egyptian  literature,  this  second  library  of  Alexan- 
dria was  burnt,  about  800  years  afterwards,  when  the  Saracens 
took  possession  of  Egypt.  The  books  were  taken  out  by  order 
of  the  Caliph  Omar,  and  used,  for  six  months,  in  supplying  the 
fires  of  the  public  baths.  "  If  these  books,"  said  Omar,  "  contain 
nothing  but  what  is  in  the  Alcoran,  they  are  of  no  use;  if  they  con- 
tain any  thrng  not  in  it,  they  are  of  no  consequence  to  salvation;  and 
if  any  thing  contrary  to  it,  they  are  damnable,  and  ought  not  to  be 
suffered." 

Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  the  son  of  Soter,  inherited  the  talents 
and  many  of  the  good  qualities  of  his  fiither,  though  stained  with 
considerable  blemishes;  it  was  by  the  orders  of  this  prince,  who 
wished  to  understand  the  laws  and  the  history  of  the  Jews,  and 
enrich  his  library  with  a  copy  of  the  Books  of  Moses,  that  that 
translation  called  the  Sepluagint,  as  being  the  work  of  seventy- 
two  interpreters,  was  made  from  the  Hebrew  into  Greek.|     Egypt 


*  Ptolemy  Soter  was,  himself,  a  man  of  letters,  and  wrote  a  history  of  the  wan 
(»f  Alexander,  which  was  greally  esteemed,  but  has  not  come  down  to  posterity. 

t  He  was  so  named,  ironically,  for  havinnj  put  two  of  his  brotiiers  to  death,  from 
a  jealousy  of  their  popularity  with  his  subjects. 

t  These  seventy-two  interpreters  are  said  to  have  been  native  Jews,  six  of  the 
most  learned  men  beiiiir  cliosen  from  each  of  tlie  twelve  lril)es,  and  sent  In  Ejrypt 
by  Eleazar,  the  hiiTh  priest,  at  the  request  of  Ptolemy,  who  had  conciliated  his 
good  will,  by  releasintr  all  the  Jewish  captives  in  Egypt.  This  account  has  been 
disputed  upon  no  belter  irrouiid  than  that  a  smaller  number  would  have  served 
the  purpo.se  as  well  as  the  larger. — See  Prideau.v.  For  four  hundred  years  the 
Septuaofinl  translation  was  held  in  such  esteem  by  the  Jews  themselves,  that  it 
was  read  in  many  of  the  synafrogues  of  Judie  in  preference  to  the  original.  But 
wlieii  they  saw  that  the  Christians  esteemed  it  equally,  they  then  became  desirouB 
of  explodiniT  its  credit;  and  in  the  second  century,  Aq\iila,  an  apostate  Christian, 
was  employed  to  make  a  new  (ireek  version,  in  which  he  designedly  perverted 
the  sense  of  all  the  passages  most  directly  applicable  to  our  Saviour.  Other 
translatiims  were  liki'wise  made  by  Symmachus  and  Theodolion.  The  original 
Tersion,  by  the  carelessness  of  transcribers,  also  became  very  erroneous  ;  so  that, 
in  the  third  century,  Origen,  in  the  view  of  forming  a  correct  copy  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, published  first  one  edition  in  four  columns  (thence  called  the  Tclriipla), 
containirig  tiie  versions  of  Aquila,  Symmachus,  and  Theodotion,  along  with  the 
Hebrew  te*t ",  and  afterwards  a  second  edition,  called   Ilexapla,  in   which   two 


coo  u.s'ivERSAi,  nisToKv.  [book   II. 

contmiicil  still  to  flourish  under  tlif  siiccecdiiig  prince,  Ptolemy 
Eucrii;ptes,  who  attained  that  glorious  surnanic  (tkc  Jieneficent) 
from  his  successful  piomotion  of  the  prosperity  and  happiness  of 
his  people.  In  the  heginning  of  his  reign,  he  waged  war  with 
Anliocluis  of  Syria,  for  the  recovery  of  j)art  of  the  Asiatic  provin 
ces  which  helonged  to  his  hereditary  kingdom;  and,  being  success- 
Cil  in  that  enterprise,  he  brought  home  immense  spoils,  among 
which  were  a  great  number  of  paintings  and  statues,  with  which  he 
enriched  his  capital  of  Alexandria.  On  returning  by  Jerusaleu), 
Jose|)iius  informs  us  that  he  oflered  sacrifice  in  the  temple  to  the 
God  of  Israel,  in  thanksgiving  for  the  victories  he  had  gained  over 
his  enemies.  It  has  been  supposed  that  the  Jews,  to  court  his 
favor,  showed  to  him  the  Prophecies  of  Daniel,  in  which  his  con- 
quests appeared  to  be  predicted.  The  Alexandrian  library  owed  a 
great  increase  of  its  literary  treasures  to  this  prince. 

The  descendants  of  the  first  Ptolemy  continued  to  fill  the  throne 
of  Egypt  for  two  hundred  and  ninety-two  years.  In  the  three 
first  of  these  reigns  the  Egyptians  were  probably  a  greater,  and 
certainly  a  much  happier  people,  than  they  had  ever  been  in  those 
remote  periods  which  historians  have  mentioned  with  poetical  ex- 
aggeration. 

In  the  preceding  brief  notices  of  the  monarchies  which  rose 
from  the  ruins  of  the  empire  of  Alexander,  w^e  have  anticipated 
somewhat  in  the  order  of  time.  We  must  now  recall  our  attention 
to  the  affairs  of  Greece  posterior  to  tlie  death  of  that  monarch; 
and  we  shall  very  shortly  trace  the  outlines  of  her  history,  till  she 
becomes  a  province  of  the  now  extended  empire ;  a  melancholy 
period,  enlivened  by  few  of  those  scenes  or  events  which  either 
animate  the  feelings  or  engage  the  imagination. 

During  the  period  of  the  conquests  of  Alexander,  the  Grecian 
republics  remained  for  the  most  part  in  a  state  of  toipid  inactivity. 
One  feeble  effort  for  their  emancipation  from  the  Macedonian  yoke 
was  made  in  Peloponnesus,  by  the  Spartans,  wliich  was  speedily 
repressed  by  Antipater,  who,  in  one  battle,  put  an  end  to  all  resist- 
ance. Some  years  after,  while  Alexander  was  on  his  expedition 
to  India,  Harpalus,  whom  he  had  appointed  governor  of  Babylon, 
having  amassed,  by  tyranny  and  extortion,  the  immense  sum  of 
five  thousand  talents,  apprehensive  that  the  conqueror,  on  his 
return,  would  bring  him  to  a  severe  reckoning,  passed  over  into 


other  versions,  the  one  found  at  Nicopolis,  the  other  at  Jericho,  were  adiled  to 
the  former.  From  a  comparison  of  all  these  translations,  Oriiren  laudahly  en- 
deavored to  settle  the  text  of  a  genuine  and  complete  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. The  best  modern  edition  of  the  Septuairinl  is  that  of  Dr.  Grabe, 
[(ublished  in  the  be>rinninor  of  the  eiorhteenth  century.  The  Septuii_rint  trans- 
ation  was  in  use  in  the  time  of  our  Saviour,  and  is  that  out  of  which  most 
of  the  citations  in  the  New  Testament  from  the  Old  are  liken.  It  was  likewise 
the  canonical  translation  used  by  all  the  Christian  cliurcjjes  from  ihf  eaiiiest 
ages 


CH.   v.]  PIIOCIO.V    AND    DEMOSTHENES.  20* 

Greece,  where  he  employed  his  money  in  corrupting  the  orators 
of  Athens  and  tlie  chief  men  of  that  republic,  in  the  view  of  estab- 
lishing an  independent  power  under  his  own  authority  and  con- 
trol. But  he  found,  in  the  incorruptible  virtue  of  Phocion,  an 
insuperable  obstacle  to  his  designs.  This  venerable  man  acted  on 
the  same  unshaken  principles  he  had  all  along  maintained  ;  he 
could  not  consider  Alexander  as  lawfully  the  master  or  sovereign 
of  Greece  ;  but  he  saw  with  regret  that  the  era  of  Grecian  liberty 
had  long  passed  away,  along  with  the  virtuous  manners  of  forn)or 
times,  and  that  a  people  thoroughly  corrupted  and  degenerate 
were  incapable  of  recovering  their  lost  freedom,  or  mainiaining  it, 
though  gained  for  a  season.  He  wished,  therefore,  to  preserve  at 
least  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  his  country,  but  if  we  judge 
thus  of  the  politics  of  Phocion,  we  cannot  impute  it  for  blame  to 
his  great  rival,  Demosthenes,  that  he  cherished  different  views ; 
and  that  as  he  had  constantly  opposed  the  ambitious  designs  of 
Philip,  so  he  persevered  in  denying  the  sovereignty  of  Alexander. 
The  enemies  of  Demosthenes  attempted  to  bring  his  integrity 
under  suspicion,  by  propagating  a  slanderous  report,  that  he  had 
accepted  bribes  from  Harpalus,  and  entered  into  the  views  of  that 
ambitious  and  bad  man.  But  this  accusation,  which  gained  such 
edit  at  the  time  as  to  procure  the  banishment  of  Demosthenes, 
nas,  upon  the  most  scrupulous  inquiry,  being  deemed  a  calumny. 
The  principal  agent  of  Harpalus  being  put  to  die  torture,  to  force 
a  confession  of  the  names  of  those  Athenians  who  had  accepted 
bribes  from  that  traitor,  solemnly  acquitted  Demosthenes  of  that 
dishonorable  charge.  A  single  hint  from  Alexander  of  his  inten- 
tion to  revisit  Greece,  was  sufficient  to  defeat  the  schemes  of  Har 
palus,  and  to  procure  his  expulsion  from  Athens. 

On  intelligence  of  Alexander's  death,  a  wonderful  change  was 
operated  on  the  public  mind  in  Greece.  Liberty  was  now  the 
universal  cry.  The  people  of  Athens  expressed  the  most  tumul- 
tuous joy,  and  the  Ecclesia  resounded  with  the  harangues  of  the 
orators  and  shouts  of  the  applauding  populace.  Demosthenes, 
though  in  exile,  engaged  several  of  the  states  to  join  with  tho 
Athenians,  and  to  equip  a  fleet  of  two  hundred  and  forty  galleys. 
The  Spartans,  dispirited  by  their  late  defeat  by  the  arms  of  Aiui- 
patcr,  refused  to  join  the  league  for  independence.  Phocion,  ever 
prudent  and  circumspect,  advised  the  confederate  stales  to  wail 
the  opportunity  of  those  dissensions  which  he  foresaw  must  infalli- 
bly arise  among  the  different  governois.  But  the  counsel  of 
Demosthenes,  who  proposed  an  immediate  commeiuement  of 
hnslililies,  suited  better  with  the  ardor  of  ihelr  present  feelings. 
The  advice  of  Phocion  was  justified  by  the  event.  Antipaier, 
nfier  some  severe  checks  from  the  troops  of  the  confederate  states, 
finally  defeated  them,  and  reduced  all  to  submission.  In  punish 
ment  of  the  offence  of  Athens,  he  abolished  the  democratic  gov- 
ernment, and  established  in  its  room  an  aristocracv,  of  which  he 
VOL.  I.  26 


202  UNIVF'.RSAL     HISTORY.  [  BOOK    II 

had  the  al)soliite  control.  !!(;  com|)(,'ll(;(J  llio  Allifiiiniis  lo  defray 
the  whoh*  expenses  of  ihe  war;  and,  finally,  demanded  that  ihey 
shoiihl  tleliver  up  lo  him  Demosthenes.  This  ilhistrious  man, 
foreseeing  inevitable  death,  swallowed  poison. 

Of  the  tendency  of  the  political  counsels  of  Demosthenes,  in 
contrast  with  those  of  Phocion,  I  have  already  expressed  a  genera, 
opinion.  The  |irinciple  which  prompted  the  counsels  of  the  former 
was  certainly  noble.  His  views  were  tinqncstionably  disinterested, 
for  he  supported  the  cause  even  of  decaying  and  hopeless  liberty 
against  successful  ambition,  and,  amidst  every  attempt  to  seduce 
him  from  his  principles,  he  remained  to  the  last  the  avowed  enemy 
of  the  enslavers  of  his  country.  The  question  of  preference  be- 
tween his  politics  and  those  of  Phocion  comes  to  this  short  issue 
whether  was  it  most  advisable  for  the  Greeks,  corrupted  and  de- 
generate as  they  were,  to  submit  peaceably  to  that  servitude  which 
they  could  not  avoid,  and  patiently  to  bear  the  yoke  which  they 
had  not  strength  to  break  ;  or,  by  continual  resistance,  to  mark, 
at  least,  a  desire  of  their  ancient  freedom — an  indignant  spirit, 
which  rose  against  their  situation;  and  thus  to  give  a  testimony  to 
their  tyrant,  that,  though  oppressed,  they  were  not  subdued; 
though  compelled  to  submit,  they  were  not  tame  and  voluntary 
slaves.  The  former  was,  perhaps,  the  more  prudent  and  the 
safer  part  ;    the  latter,  without  doubt,  the  more  honorable. 

The  Athenians  themselves,  after  the  death  of  Demosthenes, 
gave  an  ample  expression  of  their  sense  of  his  patriotic  merits,  as 
well  as  of  the  g:'nerosity  of  his  counsels;  for  it  was  their  character, 
as  we  have  seen,  oftcner  to  expiate  their  offences  to  the  dead, 
than  to  do  justice  to  the  'living.  They  erected  a  statue  in  the 
Prytaneum  to  his  memory,  with  this  inscription  : — "  If  thy  poiocr, 
O  IJenioslhenes,  had  been  equal  to  thy  wisdom  and  abilities,  the 
JMacedonian  JSIars  had  never  ruled  in  Greece."  * 

We  have  already  remarked  those  dissensions  which,  after  the 
death  of  Alexander,  arose  among  the  governors  of  the  different 
provinces,  upon  the  first  division  of  the  empire  made  by  Perdiccas. 
The  new  partition  made  by  Antipater,  on  his  acquiring  the  regency, 
gave  rise  lo  fresh  disputes,  and  all  were  soon  in  arms  and  commo- 
tion. This  was  certainly  the  crisis  that  the  Greeks  should  have 
awaited  for  throwing  off  the  Macedonian  yoke  ;  but,  too  impatient 
and  eager  to  seize  the  first  opening  that  promised  success  to  their 
design,  their  country  became  the  theatre  of  war,  affected  by  all 
the  revolutions  of  the  empire,  and  successively  the  prey  of  every 
ambitious  governor  whose  power  happened  to  predominate.  Anti- 
pater, in  making  a  new  division  of  the  provinces,  was  actuated  by 
the  twofold  view  of  strengthening  his  own  authority  and  weaken 


OJ/ior'  lev  ' EXXi'yotv  i]i)^ti-'  u-tin;;  JMuxiSuiV 


\,H.    v.]  POLYSPERCHON.  203 

ing  fliat  of  his  rivals,  whose  firm  establishment  in  their  govern- 
ments had  elevated  them  to  the  lank,  and  caused  the  greater  part 
of  them  to  assume  the  title,  of  kings.  His  policy  was  therefore 
judicious,  but  death  put  a  period  to  his  projects.  He  betjueaihed 
Macedonia  and  the  government  of  Greece  to  PolysperchoM,  one 
of  Alexander's  oldest  officers,  in  preference  to  his  own  son  Cas- 
sander,  who,  considering  this  as  an  act  of  injustice,  prepared  to 
assert  his  hereditary  right  by  arms.  He  applied,  in  that  view,  to 
Antigonus,  and  received  fi'om  hiin  the  aid  of  a  large  army,  which, 
under  the  command  of  Nicanor,  invaded  Greece,  and,  attacking 
the  ciiy  of  Athens,  seized  the  Piraeus,  and  put  a  garrison  into  the 
citadel.  Polysperchon,  however,  retained  the  Athenians  in  alle- 
giance to  his  authority,  by  promising  them  the  restitution  of  their 
democratic  government,  in  place  of  the  aristocracy  established  by 
Anti pater.  The  revolution  was  accomplished;  the  partisans  of 
the  former  government  were  condemned  to  death,  and  among 
these  the  old  and  venerable  Phocion.  Ever  a  friend  to  the  tran- 
quillity of  liis  country,  he  had  favored  the  party  of  the  aristocracy, 
and  had  on  that  account  incurred  the  popular  resentment,  which 
was  now  extreme,  against  all  whom  they  regarded  as  enemies  to 
democracy.  Phocion,  at  the  age  of  eighty,  was  condemned  to 
drink  hemlock.  The  last  request  he  made  to  his  son  was,  that  he 
should  endeavor  to  forget  the  injustice  and  ingratitude  which  the 
Athenians  had  shown  to  his  father. 

jNleantime  Cassander  arrived  with  an  army  to  the  aid  of  Nicanor, 
and  to  support  his  own  claims  to  Macedonia  and  Greece.  Their 
united  forces  drove  Polysperchon  out  of  Attica,  and  forced  him 
to  retreat  to  Peloponnesus.  Cassander  subdued  the  Athenians, 
overturned  the  newly  established  democracy,  and  obliged  the 
party  of  the  nobles  to  elect  one  of  their  own  number  to  preside  as 
a  governor  under  his  contupl.  They  chose  Demetrius  Phalereus, 
a  descendant  of  Conon,  and  a  man  of  distinguished  virtue  and 
ability.  Under  his  administration,  which  was  of  ten  years'  con- 
tinuance, the  Athenians  were  truly  happy.  The  revenues  of  the 
state  were  increased,  the  useful  arts  encouraged,  the  strictest  atten- 
tion paid  to  the  administration  of  justice,  and  lu  me  reformation  of 
all  those  abuses  which  had  arisen  from  their  late  disorders  and 
fluctuations  of  government.  In  short,  this  fickle  people  might 
have  enjoyed  real  prosperity,  had  they  possessed  a  true  feeling  of 
their  real  interests,  and  known  how  to  value  the  blessings  of  peace 
and  good  order.  But  this  was  not  their  character  ;  every  change 
was  acceptable  to  the  Athenians.  They  idolized  their  j)resent 
governor,  Demetrius,  and  erected  three  hundred  statues  to  his 
honor.  We  shall  [jresently  see  the  emptiness  of  these  testimonies 
of  popular  favor. 

Under  the  regency  of  Polysperchon,  there  was  an  utter  extinc 
tion  of  the  family  of  Alexander  the  Great.      His  mother,  Olympias, 
had  reliicd  into  E[)irus  during  the  regency  of  Antipater;  but  she 


204  UNivKiisAL  msToitv.  [dook  II 

was  iiivilcd  liy  Polyspcrclion  to  rclurn  to  Macedonia.  Srarcely 
was  she  seiilod  ilieie,  when  her  ainhiiion  and  ciuelty  ))rojo(;ied 
and  acc()in|)Iishc(l  the  deadi  of  (he  weak  Aridaeiis,  ihe  nominal 
successoi-  to  ihe  empire  of  his  brother  Alexander,  as  well  as  of  his 
queen  Eurydice.  By  these  ahomii)ablo  measures,  she  took  on 
herself  the  administration  of  government,  as  the  guardian  of  her 
infant  grandson,  the  son  of  Alexander  ijy  Roxana.  She  had  like- 
wise |)ut  to  death  the  brother  of  Cassander,  and  some  principal 
men  among  the  Macedonians,  who  had  shown  themselves  hostile 
to  her  designs.  On  the  j)laiisible  jjretencc  of  avenging  those 
crimes,  but  in  reality  to  serve  his  own  ambitious  ends,  Cassander 
besieged  her  in  the  town  of  Pydna,  arid,  taking  the  place  by  assault, 
Olympias  became  his  prisoner,  and  was  soon  after  put  to  death  by 
his  orders. 

This  great  bar  to  his  ambition  being  removed,  Cassander  kept 
the  young  prince  and  his  mother,  Roxana,  in  close  confinement  in 
the  city  of  Amphipolis.  But  the  Macedonians  expressing  their 
impatience  till  their  native  sovereign  should  assume  the  reins  of 
government,  Cassander  caused  both  him  and  his  mother  to  be 
privately  murdered.  The  people  expressed  their  resentment  in 
murmurs;  but  such  was  the  power  of  the  usurper,  that  none  dared 
oj)enly  to  impeach  or  question  his  proceedings.  Meantime  Polys- 
perchon,  whom  he  had  expelled  fi'om  Macedonia,  and  who  now 
governed  in  Pelo|ionnesus,  sent  for  Hercules,  a  younger  son  of 
Alexander  by  Barsine,  from  Pergamus,  declaring  his  resolution  to 
present  him  to  the  Macedonians,  and  cause  his  title  to  be  acknow- 
ledged as  their  lawful  sovereign.  This  new  obstacle  was  removed 
by  Cassander,  who  artfully  won  Polysperchon  to  his  interest  by 
confirming  him  in  the  government  of  Peloponnesus.  The  main 
condition  of  their  treaty  was,  that  the  young  Hercules  and  his 
mother  should  both  be  put  to  death. 

There  were  now  remaining  of  the  family  of  Alexander  only 
two  sisters  ;  Cleopatra,  the  widow  of  Alexander,  king  of  Epirus  ; 
and  Thessalonice,  the  wife  of  Cassander.  Cleopatra,  who  had 
for  some  time  resided  at  Sardis,  in  Lydia,  seeing  herself  treated 
with  little  respect  by  Anligonus,  the  governor  of  that  pro\ince, 
had  betaken  herself  to  Egypt,  on  the  invitation  of  Ptolemy  Soter; 
but  she  was  brought  back  by  order  of  Antigonus,  and  i)ri\ately 
put  to  death.  Thessalonice  was  afterwards  murdered  by  one  of 
lier  own  sons,  the  second  Antipater,  in  revenge  for  her  having 
favored  the  claims  of  his  brother  to  the  succession  of  his  ))aternal 
dominions.  Thus  within  the  comiiass  of  twenty-eight  years  bom 
the  death  of  Alexander  the  Great,  there  remained*not  one  alive  of 
all  his  family  or  kindred. 

Antigonus,  whose  extensive  pojects  we  have  already  noticed, 
was  perhaps  the  most  ambitious  of  all  those  governors  who  shared 
the  cm|)ire  of  Alexander.  Not  satisfied  with  almost  the  whole 
of  the    Asiatic    provinces,  his    object  was  now^   the   sovereignty  of 


CH.    V.J  DEMETRIUS    POI.IORCETES.  205 

Greece  ;  and  in  that  view  he  sent  iliitlier  iiis  son  Demetrius  Poli- 
orcetes,  a  young  man  of  great  talents,  and  perfectly  disposed  to 
cooperate  in  all  his  schemes  of  ambition.  With  the  command  of 
a  lar^e  army  he  made  an  attack  on  the  Athenian  teiritory,  seized 
the  Piraeus  without  oi)position,  expelled  the  garrison  of  Demetrius 
Phalereus,  and  brought  over  the  po|)ulace  to  his  interest,  by  restor- 
ing the  democratic  constitution.  The  Athenians,  happy  as  they 
had  been  under  the  government  of  Phalereus,  could  not  resist  the 
charms  of  revolution.  The  three  hundred  statues,  which,  in  proof 
of  tiieir  gratitude,  they  had  erected  to  his  honor,  were  thrown 
down  and  demolished  ;  he  was  expelled  the  territory  of  the 
republic,  and  his  rival  Poliorcetes  hailed  the  deliverer  of  Athens. 
The  excellent  Phalereus  found  an  asylum  at  the  court  of  Ptolemy 
Soter,  in  Egypt. 

The  life  of  Demetrius  Poliorcetes  was  a  perpetual  series  of 
reverses  of  fortune.  During  an  interval  of  his  absence  from 
Athens,  the  city  was  seized  by  Cassander.  Poliorcetes  flying  to 
its  relief,  rescued  Attica  from  its  invader  ;  and  the  people,  in  the 
fervor  of  their  zeal,  proposed,  as  the  highest  rank  of  honor,  to 
lodge  their  deliverer  in  the  temple  of  their  tutelary  goddess, 
Minerva.  After  the  battle  of  Ipsus,  in  which,  as  we  formerly 
observed,  his  father  Antigonus  was  killed,  this  same  Poliorcetes, 
twice  hailed  the  deliverer  of  Athens,  was  refused  an  asylum  in 
that  city  when  he  fled  thither  for  protection.  When  a  change  of 
fortune  had  secured  the  safety  of  his  paternal  dominions  in  Asia, 
he  determined  to  avenge  himself  of  the  ungrateful  Athenians.  He 
landed  in  Attica  with  a  numerous  army,  blocked  up  the  harbor 
at  the  same  time  with  his  fleet,  and  after  a  long  and  vigorous  siege, 
compelled  the  Athenians  to  surrender  and  throw  themselves  upon 
his  mercy.  He  forgave  them  all  past  offences,  and  became  once 
more  their  idol.  Meantime  a  league  was  formed  between  Lysi- 
machiis,  Seleucus,  and  Ptolemy,  who  divided  Asia  between  them, 
and  Poliorcetes  was  stripped  of  all  his  eastern  territories.  Thus 
reduced  to  the  possession  only  of  a  few  of  the  cities  of  G-reece,  he 
was  on  the  point  of  losing  even  these,  when  the  dissensions 
between  the  children  of  Cassander  put  him  in  possession  of  the 
crown  of  Macedonia.  He  was  chosen  to  mediate  in  their  differ- 
ences ;  he  found  means  to  rid  himself  of  the  competitors,  and 
seized  the  crown  for  himself.  But  destined  as  it  would  seem  to 
a  perpetual  vicissitude  of  fortune,  his  new  subjects  of  Macedonia, 
dissatisfied  with  the  government  of  a  sovereign  who  had  no  just 
claims  to  their  allegiance,  rebelled,  and,  deserting  his  standard, 
threw  themselves  under  the  rule  of  Pyrrhus,  king  of  Epirus 
Poliorcetes  fled  into  Asia,  where,  after  a  variety  of  events  of  littie 
importance  to  the  chain  of  history,  he  surrendered  himself  a 
prisoner  to  Seleucus,  at  whose  court,  dispirited  and  careless  of 
life,  he  abandoned  himself  to  excessive  debauchery,  and  soon  after 
died. 


206  _  UNivr-nsAL  histouv.  [hook  ii. 

Such  was  tlie  fate  of  llie  successors  of  Alexander,  and  such  the 
catastroplio  of  his  family  ;  and  thus  feehlc  and  fluctuating  were 
most  of  those  monarchies  which  were  raised  from  the  ruins  of  his 
empire.  Great  in  extent  of  territory,  they  iiad  no  internal  strength, 
nor  any  principle  of  union  or  durability.  It  was  their  lot  to  be 
governed  by  restless,  jealous,  and  ambitious  men  ;  the  perpetual 
jarriiii;  of  whose  interests  gave  them  no  intervals  of  tran(|uillity, 
nor  allowed  any  attention  to  the  settlement  of  their  kingdoms,  or 
the  regulation  of  their  domestic  policy.  These  monarchies  were, 
therefore,  subject  to  perpetual  revolutions  ;  but  all  being  alike 
deficient  in  that  native  strength  which  arises  from  a  long-estab- 
lished government,  there  was  not  in  any  individual  power  a  suffi- 
ciency of  vigor  to  overwhelm  or  subjugate  the  rest.  The  general 
weakness  of  those  kingdoms  thus  secured  them  against  their  incor- 
poration and  subjection  to  the  government  of  any  one  of  those 
ambitious  rulers  ;  while  it  paved  the  way  for  an  easy  conquest, 
and  successive  reduction  of  the  whole  under  the  yoke  of  a  foreign 
power. 

In  that  period  from  the  death  of  Alexander  the  Great,  which 
we  have  thus  hastily  run  over,  the  proper  history  of  the  states  of 
Greece  presents  only  a  series  of  unimportant  revolutions;  frequent 
and  violent  transitions  from  one  form  of  government  to  another  ; 
political  changes,  not  produced  as  formeily  by  the  internal  spirit  or 
genius  of  the  different  commonwealths — or  by  those  animated  con- 
tentions which  gave  room  for  the  disi)lay  of  the  noble  and  manly 
passions — but  effected  at  once  by  the  will  of  a  despot  on  a  sub- 
missive, spiritless,  and  corrupted  people.  Yet,  amidst  this  general 
weakness  and  degeneracy,  there  existed  in  a  corner  of  this  country 
a  small  people  till  now  scarcely  known,  who  still  retained  their 
ancient  manners,  and  who  preserved  in  a  considerable  degree  the 
ardor  of  true  patriotism  and  the  love  of  their  ancient  liberty. 
These  w^ere  the  states  of  Achaia. 

In  those  early  times  when  all  the  cities  of  Greece,  as  If  by 
geneial  consent,  shook  off  the  yoke  of  their  domestic  tyrants,  the 
cities  of  Achaia,  Patrae,  DymjE,  Trita^a,  Pharse,  iEgium,  and  some 
others,  had  armed  for  their  common  liberty,  and  having  deposed 
or  expelled  their  governors,  formed  a  league  of  association  on  a 
oasis  of  perfect  equality.  It  was  agreed  that  each  of  the  cities 
should  be  ruled  by  its  own  laws  and  magistrates  ;  and  that  all 
affairs  regarding  their  common  interests  should  be  treated  in  a 
senate,  which  should  assemble  twice  in  the  year  at  jEgium,  to 
which  convention  each  of  the  associated  states  should  send  their 
deputies.  No  treaty  could  be  formed,  no  alliance  made,  no  war 
undertaken,  or  peace  concluded,  without  the  consent  of  the  whole 
body.  Two  presidents  of  the  assembly  were  yearly  elected,  called 
^TQuirjyoi,  or  praetors.  It  was  their  duty  to  summon  the  states, 
and  in  them  the  authority  of  the  body  was  vested  during  the  inter 
vals  when  it  was  not  assmibled  Such  was  the  small  but  respect- 
able republic  of  Achaia. 


CH.  V.J  THE  ACHAIAN  iEAGUE.  207 

Till  the  era  of  the  division  of  Alexander's  empire,  the  Aciiaians 
had  taken  no  share  in  the  revolutions  of  Greece,  having  no  ambi- 
tion of  extending  their  own  territory  or  power,  and  no  wealth  to 
tempt  the  ambition  of  other  slates.  Tliey  were  enslaved,  however, 
after  that  era  by  some  of  those  turbulent  governors,  and  several 
of  their  cities  were  garrisoned  by  Polysperchon,  Demetrius  Poli- 
orcetes  Cassander,  and  Antigonus  Gonatas.  Others  suffered  from 
the  usurpation  of  domestfc  tyrants,  and  the  ancient  association 
seemed  entirely  at  an  end.  Tlie  following  circumstance,  however, 
incited  the  states  to  a  renewal  of  their  league.  The  people  of 
iEtolia,  a  set  of  lawless  freebooters,  emboldened  by  the  disorders 
of  Greece,  began  to  niake  incursions  on  Peloponnesus.  The  ter- 
ritories of  the  Achaian  states,  lying  immediately  opposite  to  them, 
were  most  exposed  to  their  ravages.  On  this  occasion  Dymac, 
Patraj,  Pharae,  and  Trita^a,  renewed  their  league  of  association  on 
its  ancient  principles,  and  they  were  joined  soon  after  by  the 
Tegfeans,  and  some  of  the  other  states  of  Peloponnesus.  In  one 
respect  they  improved  on  their  former  constitution,  by  electing 
only  one  president,  or  praetor,  instead  of  two,  and  they  were  for- 
tunate in  choosing  for  that  office  a  man  truly  deserving  of  it. 

Aratus  of  Sicyon,  when  a  youth  of  twenty  years  of  age,  had 
acquired  a  high  reputation  by  delivering  his  native  state  from  a 
domestic  tyranny,  and  joining  it  to  the  associated  republics.  This 
young  man  was  a  singular  phenomenon  in  those  days  of  degeneracy. 
He  possessed  uncommon  endown)ents  of  mind,  and  a  heart  which 
glowed  with  the  love  of  honor  and  of  his  country.  He  was  vigi- 
lant, enterprising,  and  prompt  in  decision  ;  and  he  possessed  that 
ready  and  forcible  eloquence  which  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
to  the  magistrate  of  a  democracy.  Aratus  was  in  the  twenty- 
eighth  year  of  his  age  when  he  was  elected  praetor  of  Achaia;  and, 
invested  with  that  honorable  office,  he  formed  the  patriotic  design 
of  delivering  Peloponnesus  from  the  yoke  of  Macedonia.  In  the 
first  year  of  his  magistracy,  he  expelled  the  Macedonian  garrison 
from  Corinth;  a  most  important  measure,  which  gave  the  united 
states  the  command  of  the  isthmus  and  entry  to  Peloponnesus. 
The  consequence  of  this  success  was  that  the  states  of  Megara, 
Trcezene,  and  Epidaurus  joined  the  Achaian  confederacy. 

The  republic  of  Achaia  was  not  filled  to  support  an  offensive 
war,  for  two  strong  reasons.  A  number  of  separate,  inde|)endent 
republics,  however  connected  by  a  common  interest,  cannot  always 
act  with  a  perfect  unanimity,  and  their  measures  are  conse- 
quently seldom  attended  with  that  celerity  of  execution  on  which 
.=;uccess  so  much  depends.  Moreover,  the  confederate  states  were 
neither  populous  nor  wealthy,  and,  of  course,  they  could  not  muster 
a  strong  force  in  the  field.  Aratus  was  quite  sensible  of  these  de- 
fects, and  therefore  bent  his  chief  attention  to  the  securing  his 
country  from  attack,  and  from  the  necessity  of  going  to  war;  and 
.his  he   wisely  judged   would   be   best  effected    by   strengthening 


20U  .  U.MVEIISAI.    IIISTOUY.  [  HOOK   M 

tlio  leag;iie  with  iIk."  arccssion  of  soirie  of  iho  more  iiowcifiil  slates 
of  GroL'ce. 

In  thai  view  he  made  liis  proposals  holh  to  Athens  and  Lace- 
daemon;  but  these  rommonweahhs,  though  still  aflecting  ^  passion 
for  liberty,  could  not,  from  a  despicable  pride,  brook  the  thought 
of  owing  their  freedom  to  the  petty  stales  of  Acliaia.  The  situa- 
tion of  the  Lacedaemonians  at  this  lime  was  indeed  such  as  to 
engross  all  attention  to  their  domestic  concerns,  as  thai  re})ublic 
was  actually  in  the  very  crisis  of  a  revolution. 

Agis  IV.  had  succeeded  to  one  branch  of  the  throne  of  Sparia 
a  short  time  before  Aratus  was  chosen  praetor  of  the  Achaian  states. 
This  prince,  a  better  man  than  a  wise  politician,  had  cherished  the 
chimerical  project  of  restoring  the  ancient  laws  of  Lycurgus,  as 
conceiving  this  the  only  means  of  rescuing  liis  country  from  the 
disorders  induced  by  the  universal  corruption  of  its  manners.  But 
there  is  a  period  when  political  infirmity  has  attained  such  a  pitch 
that  recovery  is  imi)ossible;  and  Sparta  had  arrived  at  thai  period. 
The  design  of  Agis,  of  course,  embraced  the  radical  refoim  of  a 
new  division  of  all  llie  land  of  the  republic — a  project  suffic  ient  to 
rouse  the  indignation  and  secure  the  mortal  enmity  of  the  whole 
of  the  higher  class  of  citizens,  and  of  almost  every  man  of  weight 
and  consideration  in  his  country.  The  plan  was  therefore  to  be 
conducted  with  the  greatest  caution  and  secrecy  till  sufrlciently 
ripened  for  execution  ;  but  Agis  was  betrayed  by  his  own  confi- 
dants. Leonidas,  his  colleague  in  the  sovereignty,  had  imbibed  a 
relish  for  luxury  from  his  Asiatic  education  at  the  court  of  Seleucus, 
and  was  thus  easily  persuaded  to  lake  the  part  of  the  richest  citizens 
in  opposing  this  violent  revolution,  which  ihreatened  to  reduce  all 
ranks  of  men  .to  a  level  of  equality.  The  premature  discoverv  of 
his  scheme  was  fatal  to  its  virtuous  author;  for  the  party  of  his 
opponents  was  so  formidable,  that  after  compelling  Agis  to  take 
shelter  in  the  Temple  of  Minerva,  they  seized  the  opportunity  of 
his  going  to  the  bath,  and  dragged  him  to  the  common  prison, 
where  a  tribunal  of  the  Ephori,  summoned  by  his  colleague  Leo- 
nidas, sat  ready  to  judge  him  as  a  state  criminal.  He  was  asked, 
by  whose  evil  counsel  he  had  been  prompted  to  disturb  the  laws 
and  government  of  his  country.'  "  I  needed  none  to  prompt  me," 
said  the  king,  "to  act  as  I  thought  right.  My  design  was  to 
restore  your  ancient  laws,  and  to  govern  according  to  the  plan  of 
the  excellent  Lycurgus;  and  though  I  see  my  death  is  inevitable, 
I  do  not  repent  of  my  design."  The  judges  hereupon  pronounced 
sentence  of  death,  and  the  virtuous  Agis  was  carried  forth  from 
iheir  presence  and  immediately  strangled. 

This  example  did  not  deter  Cleomencs,  the  son  of  Leonidas, 
and  his  successor  in  one  branch  of  the  sovereignty,  from  cherishing 
the  same  patriotic  design  which  had  proved  fatal  to  Agis,  and 
which  his  own  father  had  so  keenly  opposed.  Cleomenes  pro- 
posed the  twofold  object  of  delivering  Sparta  from  the  Macedonian 


Cli        .f  REVOLUTION    IN    I.ACEIEMOX.  209 

yoke  ar.d  of  restoring  the  ancient  system  of  Lycurgus.  He  began, 
by  the  judicious  measure  of  attacliing  the  army  to  his  interest, 
securing  the  confidence  and  allegiance  of  all  the  principal  oflicers, 
and  dexterously  removing  from  command  such  as  he  judged  to  be 
unfriendly  to  the  revolutionary  design.  Several  of  the  richer 
citizens,  and  even  some  of  the  Ephori,  from  whom  he  expected 
opposition,  were  on  various  pretences  banished  or  put  to  death. 
Trusting  to  the  ready  cooperation  of  the  lower  orders,  he  then 
assembled  the  people,  and  detailing  the  great  benefits  to  be  ex- 
pected from  a  complete  change  of  system,  proclaimed  the  abolition 
of  all  the  debts,  and  beginning  by  divesting  himself  of  the  whole 
of  his  property,  made  a  new  partition  of  the  lands  of  the  republic, 
and  restored  the  ancient  plan  of  education,  the  institution  of  the 
public  tables,  and,  in  a  word,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  long-for- 
gotten regimen  of  Lycurgus.  Cleomenes  was  hailed  the  second 
founder  and  father  of  his  country,  and  Greece  resounded  with  his 
praise,  and  boundless  applause  and  admiration  of  the  regenerated 
acedaemonians. 
This  revolution,  which  in  reality  was  favorable  to  the  great 
object  of  the  Achaian  league,  the  subversion  of  the  Macedonian 
influence  in  Greece,  did  not,  however,  meet  with  that  cordial  ap- 
probation which  it  ought  to  have  found  from  the  states  of  Achaia. 
Instead  of  being  the  leaders  in  the  great  and  patriotic  design  of 
vindicating  the  national  liberty,  they  now  feared  that  Sparta  was 
destined  to  eclipse  their  glory  by  assuming  that  honorable  pre- 
eminence. Such  was  the  influence  of  pride  and  jealousy,  that 
even  the  virtuous  Aratus  now  affected  to  consider  Cleomenes  and 
the  Spartans  as  cherishing  views  more  hostile  to  the  liberty  and 
independence  of  ihe  Grecian  republics,  by  elevating  the  hated 
power  of  Lacedaemon,  than  even  the  control  of  the  Macedonians. 
The  consequence  was  that,  with  a  policy  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
justify  upon  any  prinrijde  of  disinterested  patriotism,  Aratus  and 
the  Achaians  now  formed  a  strict  alliance  with  Macedon  to  oppose, 
as  they  ))retended,  the  ambitious  design  of  the  Si^artans  to  be  the 
rulers  of  Greece. 

Antigonus  Doson  at  this  time  governed  Macedonia,  in  the 
minority  of  his  nephew  Philip,  the  son  of  Demetrius.  He  gladly 
entered  into  the  designs  of  Aratus,  which  he  naturally  thought 
were  most  cfTectually  subservient  to  the  Macedonian  interests; 
and  entering  Peloponnesus  with  a  large  army,  attacked  the  Spar- 
tans under  Cleomenes,  and  in  one  sanguinary  battle  left  above 
5000  dead  on  the  field.  Cleomenes,  seeing  all  was  lost,  fled  for 
shelter  to  Egypt.  Sparta  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  conqueror, 
and  its  newly  regenerated  constitution,  with  its  short-lived  freedom, 
were  now  annihilated  for  ever.  Antigonus  imposed  upon  the 
LacedsHionians  an  easy  yoke.  Satisfied  with  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  their  submission  to  the  control  of  Macedon,  he  allowed 
them  to  model  their  laws  and  constitution  as  they  shoul  1  judge 
VOL.    I.  27 


'210  UMVKKSAI.    IIISTOIIY.  [bOOK    II. 

besi,  and  to  elect  ili<?ir  own  magistrates.      It  may  bo  believed  ihey 
made  no  further  attempt  to  revive  the  system  of  Lycurgus. 

Aniigonus  died  soon  after,  and  was  succeeded  in  the  kingdom 
of  Macedon  by  his  nephew  Philip,  then  a  youth  of  seventeen 
years  of  age,  endowed  by  nature  with  excellent  talents  and  many 
valuable  qualities  of  a  sovereign.  He  was  brave,  eloquent,  and 
of  great  address  in  moulding  men  to  his  pur[)0ses,  which  were  not 
always  the  designs  of  a  man  of  virtue  and  ])robily.  Philip  owed 
much  to  his  uncle's  care  of  iiis  education  and  the  early  instruction 
he  received  in  the  science  of  government :  he  possessed  great 
ambition,  and  was  not  scrupulous  in  the  means  of  indulging  it 
His  object  very  early  appeared  to  be  the  dominion  of  all  Greece; 
and  the  want  of  a  bond  of  union  among  its  states,  and  their  eieinal 
jealousies  and  quarrels,  gave  him  every  advantage.  His  ambition, 
however,  and  a  train  of  success  in  die  beginning  of  his  career, 
inspired  him  with  a  confidence  in  his  own  plans,  which  in  the  end 
proved  his  destruction  and  the  ruin  of  his  own  kingdom.  After 
some  considerable  successes  against  the  v^tolians,  which  gave  him 
a  high  character  as  a  general,  the  important  contest  at  that  time 
carr}'ing  on  between  the  Romans  and  the  Carthaginians  appeared 
to  offer  to  Philip,  by  the  medium  of  a  junction  with  Hannibal,  the 
means  not  only  of  subjugating  Greece,  but  of  sharing  in  the  sjioils 
of  Italy,  Seduced  by  these  flattering  prospects,  Philip  concluded 
a  treaty  with  Hannibal,  by  which  he  agreed  to  furnish  a  large  fleet 
and  army  for  the  conquest  of  Italy;  in  return  for  which  service, 
Hannibal  agreed,  after  subduing  the  Romans,  to  invade  Epirus 
and  reduce  it  under  the  dominion  of  Macedon.  This  treaty  was 
carried  so  far  into  eflect  by  a  large  fleet  under  Philip,  which 
entered  the  Ionian  Gulf  and  seized  the  seaport  of  Oricum  ;  but  a 
fatal  defeat  ensued,  and  the  armament  of  Philip  returned  with  dis- 
honor and  mortification  to  his  own  ports. 

'J'he  period  was  now  come  when  the  Romans  first  obtained  a 
fooling  in  Greece.  This  devoted  nation  was  now  prepared  for 
sla\ery,  and  its  destiny  could  not  be  averted.  Philip,  mortified 
by  his  late  disaster,  now  bent  his  whole  thoughts  on  the  sove- 
reignty of  Greece.  He  was  in  league  with  the  Achaian  >tates  ; 
but  the  virtues  of  Aratus  were  an  insurmountable  bar  to  his  ambi- 
tion ;  it  was  therefore  necessary  that  this  obstacle  should  be 
removed,  and  the  Macedonian  was  not  scrupulous  in  his  choice  of 
means.  He  procured  the  death  both  of  Aratus  and  of  his  son  by 
poison,  and  in  their  extinction  the  last  feeble  prop  of  the  Grecian 
liberiy  was  cut  away.  Philip  had  now  the  command  of  the 
\chaian  league,  and  seemed  fast  advancing  to  the  attainment  of 
his  great  object;  but  in  ]irovoking  the  enmity  of  the  Romans,  he 
had  imprudently  paved  tlie  way  for  his  own  destruction.  Having 
renewed  his  attacks  upon  the  -^tolians,  this  peo|)le,  with  a  very 
natural  but  most  imprudent  policy,  courted  aid  from  the  Romans, 
wlio  cheerfully  complied  with  a  request  which  was  to  avens;e  their 


CH.    v.]  FALL    OF    MACEDON.  21  1 

own  quarrel  and  gratify  their  j)assion  of  conquest.  T liny  declared 
themselves  protectors  of  the  liberties  of  Greece,  which  they  were 
determined  to  defend  against  invasion  from  any  other  quarter  than 
their  own.  Flaminius  being  sent  with  a  large  army  into  that 
country,  defeated  Philip  in  a  decisive  engagement  at  Cynosce- 
phalae,  and  speedily  compelled  him  to  sue  for  peace  upon  these 
humiliating  terms,  that  all  the  Geek  cities,  both  in  Europe  and 
Asia,  should  be  declared  free  and  indepindent  of  Macedonia  ;  that 
every  Greek  or  Roman  captive  should  be  set  at  liberty  ;  that  he 
should  surrender  to  the  Romans  the  whole  of  his  armed  ships  of 
war,  widi  the  exception  of  five  small  vessels,  and  pay  the  sum  of 
1000  talents  ;  and,  finally,  that  his  son  Demetrius  should  be  given 
up  to  the  Romans  as  a  hostage  for  security  of  the  |)erformance  of 
these  conditions.  Such  was  the  infatuation  of  the  degenerate 
Greeks,  that  this  treaty,  which  distinctly  proclaimed  their  subjec- 
tion to  a  foreign  power  much  more  formidable  than  Macedonia, 
and  now  rapidly  advancing  to  universal  dominion,  was  hailed  by 
them  as  a  new  epoch  of  liberty. 

The  treaty  of  Cynoscephalae  in  reality  put  a  period  to  the  king- 
dom of  Macedon.  Philip  sunk  into  absolute  insignificance.  Se- 
duced by  false  information  from  his  youngest  son  Perseus,  he  caused 
Demetrius,  his  elder  son,  to  be  put  to  death.  He  died  himself 
soon  after  ;  and  Perseus,  defeated  in  the  battle  of  Pydna  by  the 
consul  iEmilius,  was  compelled  to  surrender  himself  with  all  his 
family  into  the  hands  of  the  victor.  Precipitated  from  the  thro<ie, 
this  unhappy  prince  attended  in  chains  the  triumphal  chariot  of 
iEmilius,  and  died  a  prisoner  in  Italy.  Thus  ended  the  kingdom 
of  Macedonia,  which  now  became  a  Roman  province,  under  the 
government  of  a  proconsul. 

The  Romans,  from  the  period  of  the  conquest  of  the  Macedo- 
nian kingdom,  made  rapid  advances  to  the  dominion  of  all  Greece. 
In  this  progress  tiicir  art  was  moic  conspicuous  tiian  their  virtue. 
Tiiey  gained  their  end  by  fostering  dissensions  between  the  repub- 
lics ;  offering  themselves  as  arbiters  of  differences,  which  they 
contrived  should  always  terminate  in  their  own  favor,  and  bringing 
over  by  corruption  the  principal  men  of  die  different  states  to  their 
interest.  While  they  were  confessedly  the  most  powerful  nation 
on  earth,  they  employed  that  species  of  policy  which  is  excusable 
only  in  the  weak.  A  procedure  of  this  kind  is  not  fitted  to  com- 
mand the  reverence  of  a  generous  enemy.  The  Achaian  states 
held  that  pojicy  in  contempt,  and  they  did  not  scruple  to  insult 
the  deputies  of  imperial  Rome.  This  drew  upon  them  the  thun- 
der of  the  Roman  arms.  Metellus  marched  into  Greece  with  his 
'egions,  gave  them  battle,  and  entirely  defeated  them.  Mummius, 
the  consul,  terminated  the  work,  and  made  an  easy  conquest  of 
the  whole  of  Greece,  whieh  from  that  time  berame  a  Roman  j)ro- 
vince,  under  the  name  of  Acliaia. 

Athens  alone  had  offered  no  resistance,  and  therefore  could  not 


212  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [noOK  M 

l)e  snid  to  he  as  yol  subdued.  This  vorsatlK;  republic  had  alwaja 
flattered  the  predoii  iiiant  power,  and  thence  had  preseived  a  ba.s- 
lard  species  of  hberty  much  akin  to  servitude.  Tlie  Romans 
assisted  the  Athenians  in  a  war  aj^ainst  the  Acarnanians,  hut 
Athens  unwisely  deprived  herself  of  this  alliance  by  concluding  a 
treaty  with  an  enemy  of  tlu;  Romans,  Miihridatcs,  king  of  Pontus. 
Aristion  was  the  adviser  of  this  imprudent  measure,  and  Miihri- 
dates  rewarded  his  services  by  raising  him  to  the  tyranny  of 
Athens  ;  an  elevation  which  was  dearly  purchased,  for  Sylla 
besieged  and  took  the  city  of  Athens,  delivered  it  for  a  day  to  the 
fury  and  plunder  of  his  troops,  and  put  Aristion  to  death.  From 
that  period,  the  Athenians  quietly  submitted  to  the  dominion  of 
Rome.  They  were  allowed  to  retain  their  form  of  a  democracy, 
which  was  now  more  quietly  administered  that  their  liberty  was 
extinct,  and  there  was  no  object  to  rouse  the  passions  or  inflame 
the  turbulent  spirit  of  the  populace. 

The  Romans  treated  Greece  widi  more  peculiar  favor  and  dis- 
tinction than  any  other  of  the  conquered  provinces  of  the  empire. 
The  ancient  habit  of  associating  with  that  people  the  idea  of  all 
that  in  past  ages  was  respectable  in  virtue  or  in  valor,  and  more 
recently  the  idea  of  a  singular  eminence  in  philosophy,  and  the 
culture  of  the  fine  arts,  had  assuredly  great  weight  in  maintaining 
this  favorable  opinion  of  a  degenerate  and  fallen  people.  Low  as 
they  bad  sunk  in  the  scale  of  true  gre/tness,  the  Greeks  were  yet 
in  some  respects  superior  to  their  conquerors.  Rome  was  arrived 
at  that  period  when  the  severer  virtues  which  distinguished  the 
first  ages  of  the  commonwenllh  had  yielded  to  that  refinement 
which  arises  from,  and  in  its  turn  cherishes,  the  cultivation  of  let- 
ters and  the  taste  for  the  fine  arts.  In  these  respects,  Greece  was 
to  Rome  an  instructer  and  a  model. 

GroEcia  capta  ferum  victorem  cepit,  et  artes 
Intulit  agresti  Lalio. — Har.  Ep.  ad  .'3uff. 

Hence  she  was  still  regarded  in  an  honorable  point  of  view  by  her 
conquerors, — a  consideration  which  leads  us,  at  this  period  of  the 
termination  of  the  history  of  Greece,  to  take  a  short  view  of  the 
national  character  and  attainments  in  those  departments  of  art  and 
scienie  m  which  the  Greeks  still  continued  to  make  a  distinguished 
figure  among  the  contemporary  nations.  Previously,  however,  to 
these  considerations,  the  preceding  sketch  of  the  history  of  Greece 
furnishes  naturally  some  political  reflections  wbicii  shall  be  the 
subject  of  the  next  chapter. 


ClI.  VI  ]  GREECE RETROSPECT.  21!^ 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Politicnl  rpflpctions  arising  from  the  history  of  Greece — Retrospective  view — 
Coiisliliitional  defects  in  llie  leading  refiublics — A  pure  democracy  is  a  chi- 
mera— All  government  essentially  of  the  nature  of  a  monarchy — Crror  of 
M  iiitesquieu"s  theory — Ferguson's  idea  of  a  perfect  republic — Democracy 
unfavorable  to  patriotism  —  Danger  of  generalizing  in  politics — A  rude  state 
of  society  favorable  to  patriotism — (Ireece  a  strong  instance  of  tiiis — Charac- 
ter of  Greece  after  the  Roman  conquest. 

Wf.  have  now  traced  Greece  from  her  origin;  fronn  the  rude  and 
barbarous  periods  when  she  owerl  even  ilie  most  necessary  arts  of 
life  to  foreign  instructers,  through  every  stage  of  her  progress  to 
the  liighest  rank  among  the  civilized  nations  of  the  earth.  We 
have  seen  the  foundation  and  rise  of  her  independent  states;  the 
vigorous  perseverance  by  which  they  succeeded  in  sliaking  off  the 
yoke  of  intolerable  tyranny,  and  establishing  a  i)opular  system  of 
government ;  the  alternate  dilTerences  of  these  states  from  petty 
quarrels,  the  fruit  of  ambition  and  the  love  of  power;  while, 
at  the  same  time  they  cordially  united  their  strength  and  resources 
to  oppose  foreign  hostilities,  when  such  were  formidable  enough 
to  threaten  their  liberties  as  a  nation.  AVe  have  remarked  the 
dom'?stic  disorders  which  sprang  from  the  abuse  of  that  freedom 
which  these  republics  enjoyed;  and,  finally,  that  general  corruption 
of  manners  which,  tainting  all  the  springs  of  public  virtue,  and 
annihilating  patriotism,  at  length  brought  this  illustrious  nation 
entirely  under  subjection  to  a  foreign  yoke.  The  revolutions 
which  in  this  progress  the  states  of  Greece  underwent,  and  the 
situations  into  which  they  were  thrown  by  their  alternate  connec- 
tion and  differences,  as  w(dl  as  by  their  wars  with  foreign  powers, 
were  so  various,  that  their  history  is  a  school  of  instruction  in 
politics,  as  there  is  scarce  a  doctrine  in  that  important  science 
which  may  not  find  an  example  or  an  illustration  from  their  history. 
Till?  science  of  politics,  like  every  other  subject  of  philosophi- 
cal speculation,  admits  of  a  variety  of  opposite  and  contradictory 
opinions — a  truth  the  more  to  be  lamented  that  of  all  sciences  it  is 
that,  where  for  the  inteiest  of  mankind  it  were  most  to  be  wished 
that  our  reasonings  should  rest  upon  solid  and  fixed  principles. 
If,  howev(!r,  there  is  in  reality  any  criterion  of  the  solidity  of 
abstract  principles  in  politi(-al  reasoning,  it  must  be  when  we 
ascertai.;  their  coincidence  or  (lisaa;reement  with  actual  experience 
in  (ho  history  of  nations.  I  shall  adopt  this  criterion  in  laying 
before  my  readers  a  few  reflections  which  naturally  arise  from  the 
foregoing  short  delineation  of  the  Grecian  history. 


211  UNIVERSAL  IIISTOIIT  [bOOK  II 

The  tmseralile  oppression  wliicl),  according  to  all  acronrils  of 
the  ancient  liislorians,  the  states  of  Grsece  sustained  under  their 
first  governors,  a  set  of  tyrants,  who  owed  their  elevation  to  vio- 
lence, artd  whose  rule  was  subject  to  no  control  from  existing  laws 
or  constitutional  restraints,  was  assuredly  a  most  justifiable  motive 
on  the  part  of  the  people  for  emancipating  themselves  from  that 
slate  of  servitude,  and  for  abolishing  entirely  that  worst  of  govern- 
ments— a  pure  desj)otism..  It  is  therefore  with  pleasure  we 
remark,  in  the  early  history  of  this  nation,  the  nfible  exertion  by 
which  those  ^tates  shook  off  the  yoke  of  their  tyrants,  and  estab- 
lished for  themselves  a  new  system  of  government  on  the  just  and 
rational  basis  of  an  equality  of  rights  and  privileges  in  all  the 
members  of  the  commonwealth.  We  admit,  without  scrujile,  the 
belief  that  those  new  republics  were  framed  by  their  \irtuous  legis- 
lators in  the  true  spirit  of  patriotism.  But  the  intentions  of  the 
legislator  are  no  test  of  the  actual  merits  of  the  institutions  them- 
selves: and  it  is  certain  that  those  boasted  republics  were  very 
far  from  exhibiting  in  practice  that  perfect  system  of  political  free- 
dom which  was  expected  from  them  in  theory.  We  seek  in  vain 
either  in  the  history  of  Adiens  or  of  Lacedncmon,  for  the  beautiful 
idea  on  which  speculative  writers  have  exercised  their  fancy  of  a 
well-ordered  commonwealth. 

In  treating  formerly  of  the  peculiar  constitution  of  those  two 
gicat  and  leading  states,  we  endeavored  to  point  out  such  circum- 
stances as  appeared  to  be  defects  in  the  constitution  of  those 
political  fabrics.  In  the  republic  of  Sparta,  Lycurgus,  by  exter- 
minating luxury,  by  the  equal  partition  of  the  lands,  and  by  ban- 
ishing every  motive  to  the  ambition  of  individuals,  certainly  laid 
the  foundation  of  that  equality  among  the  citizens  of  his  common- 
wealth which  is  essential  to  the  constitution  of  a  perfect  republic. 
Yet,  under  the  Spartan  government,  tiiere  were  some  circumstances 
which  seem  totally  adverse  to  this  spirit  of  equality.  It  was 
adverse  to  equality  that  there  should  be  any  citizen  invested  with 
the  honors  and  appendages  of  royalty.  The  idea  of  a  king  pos- 
sessing rank  without  power  is  an  absurdity;  and  if  the  law  denies 
it  him,  it  will  be  his  constant  endeavor  to  wrest  and  arrogate  it. 
The  high  authority  of  the  Epiiori  was  likewise  adverse  to  the 
spirit  of  equality.  There  was  a  perpetual  contention  for  superi- 
ority of  power  between  those  magistrates  and  the  kings;  and  the 
people,  dividing  themselves  into  parties,  bribed  to  sup})ort  tlio>e 
opposite  and  contending  interests,  furnished  a  continual  source  of 
faction  and  disorder. 

In  the  Athenian  republic  the  great  defect  of  the  constitution 
seemed  to  be  in  this,  tliat  it  was  doubtful  where  the  supreme  power 
was  definitively  lodged.  The  senate  was,  in  theory,  a  wise  institu- 
tion, for  it  possessed  the  sole  power  of  convoking  the  assemblies  of 
the  people,  and  of  preparing  all  business  that  was  to  be  the  sub- 
bed  of  discussion   in  tliose  assemblies.      But,  on  the  other  hand, 


CII.    VI.]  GREECE RETROSPECT.  216 

this  senate  being  annually  elected,  its  members  were  ever  miciei 
the  necessity  of  courting  that  people  for  their  voles,  and  of  flatter- 
ing their  pr  judices  and  passions,  by  adopting  and  proposing  mea- 
sures which  had  no  other  end  than  to  render  themselves  j)opiilar. 
These  delegates  were  therefore  the  mean  dependants  on  the  mob 
who  elected  them.  The  guardians  nominally  of  the  peoj)le's  rights, 
they  were  themselves  the  abject  slaves  of  a  corrupted  populace. 
The  wise  purpose  of  the  institution  was  thus  utterly  defeait'd  by 
the  sinde  circumstance  of  the  senators  beinsr  annuallv  elected. 
There  were  other  radical  defects  in  the  constituiion  of  Athens.  All 
the  offices  of  the  stale  were  by  Solon  destined  to  be  filletl  from 
the  thiee  first  classes  of  the  richer  citizens.  Tiie  fourth  or 
inferior  class,  {(•>>]' f?-,)  had.  however,  an  equal  right  of  sulirage 
in  the  public  assembly,  and  being  superior  in  number  to  all  the 
other  three,  had  it  in  their  power  to  carry  every  question  against 
the  higher  classes.  Thus  there  was  a  perpetual  source  of  discord 
inherent  in  this  constitution  ;  the  power  and  pre-eminence  of  office 
exclusively  vested  in  one  division  of  the  peo])le,  which  they  would 
iealously  maintain  by  every  possible  means  ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  the  other  was  furnished  with  arms  sufficient  to  defeat  that 
power  altogether,  or,  at  least,  to  maintain  at  all  times  a  violent 
struggle  for  superiority. 

The  best  apology  that  can  be  made  for  Solon  is,  that  his  inten- 
tions were  good.  He  knew  that  a  constituiion  purely  democratic 
is  an  absolute  chimei'a  in  politics.  He  knew  that  the  people  are 
themselves  incapable  of  exercising  rule,  and  that,  under  one  name 
or  another,  they  must  be  led  and  controlled.  He  wished,  there- 
fore, to  give  them  this  control  by  the  natural  means  which  the  rich 
possess  over  the  poor ;  in  other  words,  to  moderate  the  discordant 
counsels  of  a  populace,  in  whom  lay  the  rights  of  deciding,  by  the 
influence  of  an  aiistocracy  who  might  lead  or  dictate  those  deci- 
sions ;  but  he  knew  not  how  to  accomplish  this  by  a  clear  and 
explicit  definition  of  the  powers  of  the  one  body  over  the  other  ; 
whence  it  happened,  that  neither  part  of  the  public  having  its  rights 
and  privileges  well  defined,  they  were  perp'  tually  quarrelling  about 
the  limits  of  authority,  and  instead  of  a  salutary  and  cordial  cooper- 
ation for  the  general  good  of  the  state,  it  was  an  eternal  contest  for 
suj)remacy,  and  a  mulual  desire  of  each  other's  abasement. 

These,  which  may  be  esteemed  radical  defects  in  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  two  principal  republics  of  Greece,  were  heightened  by 
several  very  impolitic  laws  and  customs  peculiar  to  each,  which, 
as  I  formerly  touched  on  them,  I  shall  not  recapitulate.  It  is 
sufficient  to  say,  that  the  detail  of  the  systems  of  Solon  and  Lycur- 
gus,  such  as  they  are  described  to  us  hy  ancient  writers,  and  the 
history  of  those  rival  republics,  both  in  their  quarrels  with  each 
other,  in  their  foreign  wars,  and  above  all  in  their  intestine  factions 
and  disorders,  afford  full  conviction  that  the  form  of  governmen* 
which  they  enjoyed  was  in  itself  extremely    faulty.     The   revolu- 


216  TINIVEIIS-VL    IIISTOIIV.  [bOOK     K 

tions  to  uliiclj  those  slates,  iuiil  j);irli(;iilurly  llic  forinor,  was  siil>- 
ject,  plainly  prove  that  their  consiitulions  were  not  iVained  for 
stability,  or  for  any  long  measure  of  duration  ;  and  the  condition 
of  the  people  (the  true  criterion  of  the  merit  of  any  political  fab- 
ric) was,  in  reality,  such  as  to  partake  more  of  actual  servitude 
and  oppression  than  the  condition  of  the  subjects  of  the  most 
despotic  monarchies.  It  is  a  known  fact,  that  the  slaves  formed 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  inhabitants,  both  of  the  Athenian 
and  Lacedaemonian  states  ;  and  to  those,  more  especially  at  Lace- 
dsmon,  the  free  citizens  behaved  with  the  most  inhuman  rigor. 
Neither  were  the  free  citizens  more  inclined  to  a  humane  and 
liberal  conduct  to  those  of  their  own  condition  ;  a  debtor  became 
ipso  facto  the  slave  and  bondman  of  his  creditor,  who  might  com- 
pel him  to  labor  in  bondage  and  fetters  at  his  ])leasure.  Thus,  a 
great  ])art,  even  of  the  free  citizens,  was  actually  enslaved  to  the 
other ;  a  circumstance  which  we  shall  see,  under  the  Rom.an 
commonwealth,  was  the  source  of  the  most  violent  civil  con^.mo- 
tions.  We  may  judge  then  with  what  propriety  these  can  be 
termed  free  governments,  where  abject  slavery  was  the  condition 
of  the  majority  of  the  people.  Nor  were  the  superior  classes  in 
the  actual  enjoyment  of  a  rational  liberty  and  independence.  They 
were  perpetually  divided  into  factions,  which  servilely  ranked  them- 
selves under  the  banners  of  the  contending  demagogues  ;  and  these 
maintained  their  influence  over  their  partisans  by  the  most  shame- 
ful corruption  and  bribery,  of  which  the  means  were  supplied  alone 
by  the  plunder  of  the  public  money.  The  whole,  therefore,  was 
a  regular  system  of  servitude,  which  left  nothing  free  or  ingenuous 
tn  the  condition  of  individuals,  nor  any  thing  that  can  justly  furnish 
encomium  to  an  unprejudiced  advocate  for  the  dignity  of  human 
nature. 

If  such  was  the  condition  of  the  chief  republics  of  antiquity, 
whose  liberty  we  so  frequently  hear  extolled  with  boundless  enco- 
mium, and  whose  constitution  we  are  taught  from  our  childhood  to 
admire,  (and,  in  fact,  this  may  fairly  be. ranked  among  the  preju- 
dices with  which  ingenuous  youth  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  tinctured 
from  a  classical  education,)  it  is  not,  perhaps,  unreasonable  to  con- 
clude, that  a  pure  and  perfect  democracy  is  a  thing  not  attainable 
oy  man,  constituted  as  he  is  of  contending  elements  of  vice  and 
virtue,  and  ever  mainly  influenced  by  the  predominant  principle 
of  self-interest.  It  may,  indeed,  be  confidently  asserted,  that 
there  never  was  that  government  called  a  republic,  which  was  not 
ultimately  ruled  by  a  single  will,  and,  therefore,  (however  bold 
may  seem  the  paradox,)  virtually  and  substantially  a  monarchy. 
The  only  diHerence  between  governments,  with  respect  to  the 
political  freedom  of  the  subject,  consists  in  the  greater  or  the 
smaller  number  of  restraints  by  which  the  regulating  will  is  con- 
trolled. This  subject  is  sufiiciently  important  to  merit  a  short 
illustration 


CH.  VI.]  GREECE RETUOSPECT.  217 

In  every  regular  state  tliere  must  be  a  governing  power,  whoso 
will  regulates  the  community.  In  the  most  despotic  governments, 
that  power  is  lodged  in  a  single  person,  whose  will  is  subject  to 
no  other  control  than  that  which  arises  from  the  fear  of  his  own 
deposition.  Of  this  we  have  an  example  in  the  Ottoman  govern- 
ment, which  approaches  the  nearest  of  any  monarchy  we  know 
to  a  pure  despotism.  But  in  most  monarchies,  the  will  of  tlie 
person  called  the  sovereign  is  limited  by  cerlain  constitutional 
restraints  which  he  cannot  transgress  with  safety.  In  the  British 
government  the  will  of  the  prince  is  controlled  by  a  parliament ; 
in  other  limited  monarcliies,  by  a  council  of  slate,  whose  i)0wers 
are  acknowledged  and  d'^fmed.  But  this  parliament,  or  council, 
which  thus  limits  the  w-ill  of  the  prince,  is  in  those  matters  where 
it  exercfses  its  right  of  hmitation,  superior  to  the  will  of  the  prince, 
and,  therefore,  in  fact,  the  sovereign  power  of  the  slate.  ,Novv 
this  controlling  power,  consisting  apparently  of  a  number  of  wills, 
is,  in  reality,  always  led  by  a  single  will;  by  some  individual  of 
great  and  commanding  talents,  to  whose  acknowledged  superiority 
his  equals  in  rank  or  office  either  all  pay  a  willing  obedience,  o' 
whose  partisans  are  generally  sufficient  to  outnumber  his  opp: 
nents.  Thus  we  have  a  single  will  in  the  council  opposed  to,  or 
controlling  the  will  of  the  prince.  But  where  there  are  two  con- 
tending wills,  one  must  of  necessity  yield  to  the  other.  The  king 
must  either  rule  the  leader  of  the  council,  or  the  latter  must  rule 
the  former  ;  and  in  this  case,  though  not  nominally,  it  cannot  bo 
denied  that  the  latter  is,  in  reality,  in  any  such  exercise  of  his 
will,  the  supreme  power  of  the  state. 

Thus  it  is  in  limited  monarchies.  Now  how  does  the  malter 
stand  with  respect  to  a  rej)ublic  or  democracy?  Precisely  the 
same.  The  people  flatter  themselves  that  they  have  the  sove- 
reign power.  These  are,  in  fart,  words  without  meaning.  It  is 
true  ihcy  elect  their  governors  ;  but  how  are  these  elections 
brought  about?  In  every  instance  of  election  by  the  mass  of  a 
people — through  the  influ<Mice  of  those  governors  themselves,  and 
by  means  the  most  opposite  to  a  free  and  disinterested  choice,  by 
ihe  basest  corruption  and  orioery.  But  these  governors  once 
elected,  where  is  the  boasted  freedom  of  the  people?  They  must 
submit  to  their  rule  and  control,  with  the  same  abandonment  of 
their  natinnl  liberty,  the  freedom  of  their  will,  and  the  command 
of  their  actions,  as  if  they  were  unaer  the  ruL*  nf  a  monarch.  But 
these  governors,  it  is  said,  are.  in  a  republic,  chosen  from  the 
people  itself,  and  therefore  wi.i  respect  its  interests;  they  are  not 
one  but  many,  and  the  will  of  eann  will  have  a  control  from  that 
of  his  fellows.  That  they  are  cnosen  from  the  people  affords  no 
pledge  that  they  will  either  be  wiser  men,  or  less  influenced  by 
selfisii  ambition,  or  the  passion  of  tyrannizing  ;  all  experience  goes 
to  prove  llio  contrary  .  and  that  the  will  of  the  many  is  in  truth  a 
mere  chimera,  and  ultimately  resolves  into  the  will  of  one,  uo 
VOL.    I.  23 


218  UNivr.nsAt,   iiistouy.  [dook  ii 

have  already  shown.  An  rf|ii;ilily  of  pDwcr  and  a  freedom  of  wiR 
cannot  cxisi  in  a  society  of  a  liiindicd  ndcrs,  or  oven  in  a  decein- 
virate,  a  irinniviraie,  or  barely  in  a  divid(.'(l  sovereif^niy,  as  the 
cominonwealili  of  Sjiarta.  The  snperior  ability  will  coristantiy 
draw  after  it  the  snperior  conuiiand,  and  be  in  eirect  the  soverefgn 
of  the  state;  it  matters  not  under  which  name,  whether  emperor, 
king,  consul,  protector,  stadtlioldcr,  or  simply  tribune  or  burgo- 
master. 

If  that  principle  I  set  out  with  is  a  truth,  viz.:  that  actual  ex- 
perience (leduced  from  the  history  of  nations  is  the  surest  test  of 
the  truth  or  falsehood  of  any  doctrine  of  politics,  it  may  bo  no  use- 
less task  if  we  endeavor  to  apply  this  criterion  to  some  political 
doctrines  which  have  the  support  of  a  g  eat  name,  and  have  on 
that  account  obtained  a  pretty  general  currency. 

The  author  of  the  "Spirit  of  Laws,"  a  work  which  must  ever 
be  regarded  as  the  production  of  a  iTiost  enlightened  mind,  has 
built  a  great  deal  of  plausible  and  ingenious  reasoning  on  this  gen- 
eral idea,  that  the  three  distinct  forms  of  government,  the  mon- 
arciiical,  the  despotic,  and  the  republican,  are  influenced  by  three 
separate  principles,  upon  which  the  whole  system  in  each  form  is 
constructed,  and  on  which  it  must  depend  for  its  su[)port.  "The 
princi|)le  of  the  monarchical  form,"  says  Montesquieu,  "is  honor; 
of  the  dospotical,  fear;  and  of  the  republican,  virtue:''  a  position 
which,  if  true,  would  at  once  deleiiiiine  to  which  of  the  three  forms 
the  preference  ought  to  be  given  in  speculating  on  their  compara- 
tive degrees  of  merit. 

In  order  to  examine  this  important  position,  which  is  the  foun- 
dat'on  of  a  most  elaborate  theory,  and  from  which  the  author  draws 
conclusions  deeply  affecting  the  interests  of  society,  we  shall  take 
the  example  of  the  republic^  with  the  nature  and  character  of 
which  form,  we  have  had  some  ojiportunity  of  being  acquainted 
from  the  preceding  short  sketch  of  the  history  of  the  Grecian 
comtnonwealths. 

The  ingenious  author  of  an  Essay  on  the  History  of  Civil  So- 
ciety *  thus  enlarges  on  the  idea  of  M.  Montesquieu: — "In 
democracy,"  says  he,  "men  must  love  equality;  they  must  respect 
the  rights  of  their  fellow  citizens  ;  they  must  unite  by  the  com- 
mon ties  of  affection  to  the  state.  In  forming  personal  preten- 
sions, they  must  be  satisfied  with  that  degree  of  consideration 
which  they  can  procure  by  their  abilities  fairly  measured  with 
those  of  an  opponent.  They  must  labor  for  the  public  without 
hope  of  profit.  They  must  reject  every  attempt  to  create  a 
personal  dependence.  Candor,  force  and  elevation  of  mind,  in 
short,  are  the  props  of  detnocracy,  and  virtue  is  the  principle  re- 
quired to  its  preservation."  A  beautiful  picture — a  state  indeed 
of  consummate  perfection!     But  liie  author  proceeds: — "How 

"Dr.  Adam  Fergusson. 


ril.   VI. 1  GRECCK  —  RETROSPECT.  219 

ardentJy  slioulil  mankind  wish  for  tlio  form,  if  it  tended  to  estab- 
lish the  principle,  or  were  in  every  instance  a  sure  indicat:f)n  of 
its  presence!  But  pcrliaps  we  must  have  possessed  the  prnici|)le 
in  order,  witli  any  hopes  of  advantage,  to  receive  the  form."  Tl)e 
last  sentence  is  a  fair  and  just  conclusion,  which  needed  not  the 
cautious  form  in  which  it  is  expressed.  The  author  plainly  inti- 
mates his  own  opinion,  in  which  every  thinking  mind  will  agree 
with  him,  that  this  beautiful  picture,  which  he  has  drawn  correctly 
after  the  sketch  of  Montesquieu,  is  nothing  better  than  an  Utopian 
theory;  a  splendid  chimera,  descriptive  of  a  state  of  society  that 
never  did,  and  never  could  exist;  a  repuhlic  not  of  men,  but  of 
dngels. 

For  where,  it  may  be  asked,  was  that  democracy  ever  found  on 
earth,  where,  in  the  words  of  this  description,  men  loved  equality; 
were  satisfied  with  the  degree  of  consideration  they  could  procure 
by  their  abilities  fairly  measured  with  those  of  an  opponent,  (a 
circumstance  in  itself  utterly  destructive  of  equality,)  labored  for 
the  public  without  hope  of  profit,  and  rejected  every  attempt  to 
create  a  personal  dependence.'  Did  such  a  government  ever 
exist,  or,  while  society  consists  of  human  beings,  is  it  possiijle  that 
such  ever  should  exist.''  While  man  is  a  being  instigated  by  the 
love  of  power — a  passion  visible  in  an  infant,  and  common  to  us 
even  with  the  inferior  animals — he  will  seek  personal  superiority 
in  preference  to  every  matter  o^  a  general  concern;  or  at  best,  he 
will  employ  himself  in  advancing  the  public  good,  as  the  means 
of  individual  distinction  and  elevation:  he  will  promote  the  inter- 
est of  the  state  from  the  selfish  but  most  useful  passion  of  making 
himself  considerable  in  that  establishment  which  he  labors  to 
aggrandize. 

Such  is  the  true  picture  of  man  as  a  political  agent.  But  let 
us  not  be  understood,  that  what  is  here  affirmed  with  regard  to 
the  connnunity  at  large,  is  strictly  true  of  every  member  who 
composes  it.  If  we  look  in  vain  for  disinterested  patriotism  in 
the  aggregate  of  a  people,  it  would  be  a  rash  and  unjust  conclusion 
to  assert  that  no  such  virtue  exists  in  the  breasts  of  individuals. 
The  same  evidence  of  history  which  proves  the  truth  of  the  one 
assertion,  would  suffice  to  disprove  the  other.  The  annals  of  the 
Greek  and  Roman  states  record  examples  of  the  most  exalted 
patriotic  virtue  »n  a  few  distinguished  characters,  whose  names 
have  come  down  vviih  honor  to  modern  times,  and  are  destined  to 
survive  to  the  latest  posteiity.  But  these  examples  afiord  in 
themselves  a  proof  which  fully  confirms  the  general  proposition. 
The  admiration  whi(;h  those  virtuous  individuals  excited  while 
they  lived,  the  lasting  honors  that  attend  their  memory,  demon- 
strate the  singularity  and  rareness  of  that  character,  the  difficulty 
of  its  attainment,  and  thence  the  disiitiguished  honors  which  it 
claims,  as  approaching  as  near  as  possible  tq  the  ideal  perfection 
of  human  nature. 


220  UMVEiisAi.  iiisTonv.  [book   II 

Di-'jciiiini";  as  I  do  from  the  notion  of  Montosqiileii,  ihat  virtue 
is  the  principle  of  a  democratic  government,  I  am  yet  ready  to 
allow  (wliat  may  seem  at  first  view  paradoxical)  that  this  form  of 
f;overninent  is  the  best  "adapted  to  produce,  tlions;li  not  the  mosi 
frccnient,  yet  the  most  striking,  examples  of  virtue  in  individuals 
But  why?  Even  for  a  reason  the  very  opposite  to  the  opinion  of 
that  ingenious  writer.  A  democratic  government  opposes  more 
impediments  to  disinterested  patriotism  than  any  other  forcn.  Tc 
surmount  these,  a  pitch  of  virtue  is  necessary  which,  in  other  situ- 
ations, where  the  obstacles  are  less  great  and  numerous,  is  nol 
called  into  exertion.  The  nature  of  a  republican  governmeni 
gives  to  every  member  of  the  stale  an  equal  light  to  cheiish  views 
of  ambition,  and  to  aspire  to  the  hi<;hest  offices  of  the  common- 
wealth;  it  gives  to  every  individual  the  same  title  with  his  follows 
to  aspire  at  the  government  of  the  whole.  Where  talents  alone 
are  sufficient  to  obtain  weight  and  distinction,  we  may  look  for  a 
display  of  ambition  in  all  who  have  a  high  opinion  of  their  own 
abilities.  The  number  of  candidates  excites  rivalships,  conten- 
tions, and  factions.  The  glorious  names  of  liberty  and  patriotism 
are  always  found  effectual  to  rouse  and  inflame  the  multitude  ; 
rarely  indeed  to  blind  them  to  the  real  character  and  views  of  the 
demagogue,  but  ever  sufficient  to  be  a  mask  for  their  own  love  of 
tumuli  and  the  hatred  of  their  superiors.  In  such  a  state  of  soci- 
ety, how  rare  is  genuine  virtue;  how  singular  the  character  of  a 
truly  disinterested  patriot!  He  appears  and  he  is  treated  as  an 
imposter;  he  attempts  to  serve  his  country  in  its  councils,  or  in 
offices;  he  is  calumniated,  reviled,  and  persecuted;  he  dies  in 
disgrace  or  in  banishment ;  and  the  same  envy  which  maligned 
him  living,  embalms  him  dead,  and  showers  encomiums  on  his 
memory,  to  depress  and  mortify  the  few  surviving  imitators  of  his 
virtues.  We  have  seen,  from  the  history  of  the  Grecian  stales, 
that  a  democracy  has  produced  some  splendid  models  of  genuine 
patriotism  in  the  persons  of  Aristides,  IVIiltiades,  and  Cimon.  We 
have  seen  the  reward  that  attended  that  character  under  this  form 
of  government,  of  which  we  are  taught  to  believe  that  virtue  is  the 
principle. 

In  the  science  of  politics,  more  than  m  any  other,  the  greatest 
caution  is  necessary  in  the  adoption  of  general  positions.  The 
theory  of  M.  Montesquieu  leads,  apparently  by  fair  induction,  to 
a  variety  of  consequences  most  deeply  interesting  to  man,  not 
only  in  his  political,  but  in  his  inoial  capacity.  How  seriously 
ought  those  general  propositions  to  be  canvassed  and  scrutinized, 
from  which  their  author  has  deduced  such  consequences  as  the 
following!  That  as  in  a  democracy  there  is  no  occasion  for  the 
principle  of  honor^  so  in  a  monarchy  virtue  is  nol  at  all  necessary; 
that  under  the  latter  government  the  state  can  subsist  indepen  'ently 
of  the  love  of  country,  of  the  passion  of  true  glory,  awl  of  every 
heroic  virtue;  that  the   laics  supply  the  place   of  those  virtues,  and 


CH.  VI.]  GREECE RETROSPECT.  22.* 

the  state  dispenses  iclth  tJiem  ;  that  under  a  monarchy^  a  virtuoui 
man  ought  not  to  hold  office  ;  that  puhlic  employments  ought  to  be 
venal  ;  *  and  that  crime  i^  if  kept  seer  f,  are  of  no  consequrnce.  f 
If,  insiead  of  tlieoreiical  specuhuion,  we  take  history  for  our  i;Mi(lc, 
and  thence  form  a  fair  estimate  of  the  condition  of  tlie  siihject 
under  all  the  different  forins  of  the  political  machine,  uc  shall  be 
in  no  danger  of  hav^ing  our  reason  blinded  and  abused  by  such 
absurd  and  pernicious  chimeras,  with  whatever  sophistry  they  are 
disguised  to  our  understanding. 

Ti)e  history  of  the  states  of  Greece  exhibits  in  its  earliest  jie- 
jiod  a  very  general  diffusion  of  the  patriotic  spirit,  and  the  love  of 
ingenuous  freedom.  Those  virtuous  feelings  became  gratiually 
corrupted  as  the  nation  advanced  in  power  and  splendor.  Selfish 
ambition  and  the  desire  of  role  in  the  commonwealth  came  in 
place  of  the  thirst  for  national  glory  ;  and  at  length  the  enthusiasm 
for  freedom,  which  was  at  first  the  glowing  character  of  the  Grecian 
states,  gave  place  to  an  enthusiasm  of  another  kind,  still  of  an 
ingenuous  nature,  thougli  far  less  worthy  in  its  aim, — an  admiration 
of  the  fine  arts,  a  passion  for  the  objects  of  taste,  and  all  those 
refinements  which  are  the  offspring  of  luxury. 

Patriotism  always  exists  in  the  greatest  degree  in  rude  nations, 
and  in  an  early  period  of  society.  Like  all  other  affections  and 
passions,  it  operates  with  the  greatest  force  where  it  meets  with 
the  greatest  difficulties.  It  seems  to  be  a  virtue  which  grows  from 
opposition  ;  which  subsists  in  its  greatest  vigor  amidst  turbulence 
and  dangers  ;  but  in  a  state  of  ease  and  safety,  as  if  wanting  its 
appropriate  nourishment,  it  languishes  and  decays.  We  must  not 
then  wonder  at  that  difference  of  patriotic  character  which  distin- 
guished the  Greeks  in  the  early  ages  of  their  history,  from  that 
by  which  they  were  known  in  their  more  advanced  and  more 
luxurious  periods.  *  It  is  a  law  of  nature  to  which  no  experience 
has  ever  furnished  an  exception,  that  the  rising  grandeur  and  opu- 
lence of  a  nation  must  be  balanced  by  the  decline  of  its  heroic 
virtues.  When  we  find  in  the  latter  ages  of  the  Grecian  history, 
and  in  the  declension  of  the  Roman  commonwealth  and  subsequeul 
periods  of  the  empire,  no  traces  of  that  noble  spirit  of  patriotism 
which  excited  our  respect  and  admiration  when  they  were  infant 
and  narrow  establishments,  it  is  not  that  the  race  of  men  had 
degenerated,  or  that  the  same  soil  and  climate  which  formerly 
produced  heroes  could  now  only  rear  abject  slaves  and  luxurious 
tyrants.  Nature  is  still  the  same  ;  and  man  comes  the  same  from 
the  hand  of  nature  ;  but  artificial  causes  have  thrown  him  into  that 
situation  which  affords  no  exercise  to  passions  which  once  had 
their  amplest  scoi)e  and  operation  ;    which  banishes  virtue  by  dimin- 


*  Spirit  i)f  Ijnws,  b   viii.,  c.  H. 
t  Spirit  of  I^a  ws,    b.  iii.,   c.  5 


222  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOIIY.  [l)O0K  \i 

nhing  its  objects  and  .aiiiiiliihiting  its  most  subslarilicil  rewards  ;  for 
wealih  ami  ease  and  safety  deny  all  exertion  lo  heroic  virtue  ;  and 
in  a  society  marked  by  these  characteristics,  such  cndownieni  can 
neither  lead  to  power,  to  eminence,  nor  t(j  fame. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  Greece,  when,  extending  her  con- 
quests and  importing  both  the  weahh  and  the  manners  of  foreign 
nations,  she  lost  with  her  ancient  poverty  her  ancient  virtue. 
Venality  and  corruption  pervaded  every  department  of  her  stales, 
and  became  the  spring  of  all  public  measures,  which,  instead  of 
tending  to  the  national  welfare,  had  for  their  only  object  the  grati- 
fication of  the  selfish  passions  of  individuals.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, it  was  no  wonder  that  she  should  become  an  easy  prey 
to  a  foreign  power,  which  in  fact  rather  jjurchased  her  in  the  mar- 
ket, than  subdued  her  by  force  of  arms. 

Yet  Greece,  thus  degenerate  and  fallen  from  the  proud  eminence 
she  once  maintained,  continued  in  some  respects  to  hold  a  distin- 
guished rank  among  the  contemporary  nations.  Conquered  as  she 
was,  she  continued  in  one  point  of  view  to  preserve  a  high  supe- 
riority even  over  the  power  which  had  subflued  and  enslaved  her. 
Her  progress  in  letters  and  philosophy,  and  her  unri\alled  emi- 
nence in  the  arts,  compensated  in  some  degree  the  loss  of  her 
national  liberties,  and  forced  even  from  her  conquerors  an  avowal 
of  her  superiority  in  every  department  of  science  and  mental 
energy.  The  victors  did  not  blush  to  become  the  scholars  of  the 
vanquished.  The  most  eminent  of  the  Roman  orators  perfected 
themselves  in  their  art  in  the  school  of  Athens.  The  Greek 
philosophy  had  for  some  ages  its  disciples  in  Italy;  and  from  the 
golden  era  of  the  administration  of  Pericles  at  Athens,  the  Greeks 
furnished  the  n)odels  of  all  that  is  excellent  in  the  arts  of  poetry, 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture. 

We  proceed,  therefore,  to  take  a  short  survey  of  the  attainments 
of  the  Greeks  in  those  departments  of  science  and  of  art,  begin- 
ning with  an  account  of  their  extraordinary  eminence  in  sculpture, 
painting,  and  architecture,  in  which  thry  arrived  at  a  pitch  of 
perfection  which  has  been  the  admiration  and  envy  of  all  succeed- 
aiS  ages. 


CH     VII. 1  GREECE RETROSPECT 


CHAPTER  VII. 


The  Greeks  not  eminent  in  the  Useful  Arts — Commerce — Superiority  in  the 
Fine  Arts— Greek  Arciiitecture — Goliiic  Architecture — Sculpture — Infori- 
ority  of  the  Moderns — Greek  religion  favorable  to  Sculpture  and  Paintings 
Greek  Painters. 

It  is  not  among  the  Greeks  that  wo  are  to  look  for  the  greatest 
improvement  in  the  useful  or  the  necessary  arts  of  life.  When 
we  speak  of  the  eminence  of  this  people  in  the  arts,  we  are  under- 
stood to  mean  those  which,  by  distinction,  are  termed  the  fine 
arts,  or  those  which  mark  the  refinement  of  a  people,  and  which 
come  in  the  train  of  luxury.  Agriculture,  which  deservedly  holds 
the  first  rank  among  the  useful  arts  of  life,  does  not  appear  ever 
to  have  attained  a  remarkable  degree  of  advancement  among  the 
Greeks.*  At  Sparta,  this,  as  weM  as  other  arts,  being  confined  to 
the  slaves,  it  is  not  there  that  we  are  to  look  for  any  remarkable 
progress  in  those  departments.  With  respect  to  Attica,  the  soil 
of  that  Qountry  was  naturally  barren:  its  best  produce  was  the 
olive;  and  the  Athenians  the  more  readily  confined  themselves  to 
that  branch  of  husbandry,  that  it  was  little,  if  at  all,  attended  to  in 
any  of  the  other  states  of  Greece.  That  Attica  produced  little  or 
no  grain  is  evident  from  this  fact,  mentioned  by  Demosthenes, 
that  the  Athenians  imported  annually  400,000  medimni  of  corn. 
The  medimnus  was  somewhat  more  than  four  pecks  of  English 
measure. 

Deficient  as  the  Greeks  seem  to  have  been  in  agriculture,  they 
were  not  much  more  considerable  as  a  commercial  people.  Xeno- 
phon,  indeed,  in  his  treatise  on  the  Public  Revenue,  advises  his 
countrymen  to  spare  no  pains  in  advancing  their  commerce,  and 
lays  it  down  as  a  sound  maxim,  that  the  riches  of  individuals  con- 
stitute the  strength  of  a  state:  but  such  ideas  were  repugnant  to 
the  common  notions  of  his  countrymen,  at  least  in  the  earh'er  peri- 
ods of  the  republics.  ^The  laws  of  Lycurgus,  we  have  seen,  pro- 
scribed commerce,  with  all  other  arts,  as  tending  to  produce  an 
"necpiality  of  wealth  :  nor  did  the  system  of  Solon  give  any 
encouragement  to  trade.  Notwithstanding  these  impediments, 
however,  from  the  time  when  the  Greeks  had  seen  and  tasted  the 


"  Plato  de  LejTir.  I.  7,  and  Aristotle  in  his  Politic.  1.  8,  c.  10,  both  explode  the 
practice  of  agriculture  by  the  free-born  citizens,  and  confine  it  to  the  slaves. 


2-1  UNlVtRSAI.    HISTORY.  [iKiUK     Ii 

Asiatic  liixuiies,  from  the  era  of  the  invasion  of  Xerxes,  the  Athe- 
nians began  to  cultivate  commerce  with  considerable  assiduity. 
Corinlli,  we  know,  and  the  Greek  colony  of  Syracuse,  became 
from  that  source  extremely  opulent.  They  navi^^ated  the  iMcdi- 
lerraneau  in  large  vessels,  capable  of  containing  200  men;  and  in 
the  age  of  Alexaiulcr  we  have  seen  a  voyage  performed,  of  ten 
months'  duration,  in  sailing  from  the  month  of  the  Indus  to  Susa, 
in  the  farther  extremity  of  the  Persian  Gulf. 

But  these  were  not  the  arts  for  which  Greece  was  ever  re- 
markable among  the  nations  of  antiquity.  We  must  now  speak  of 
those  for  which  she  was  eminently  distinguished;  in  which  she 
surpassed  all  the  contempoi-ary  stales,  and  of  which  the  remaining 
monuments  are  at  this  day  the  models  of  anxious  imitation,  and 
the  confessed  standard  of  excellence  in  the  judgment  of  the  most 
polished  nations  of  modern  times.  I  speak  of  what  are  termed 
the^ne  arts,  in  all  of  which,  architecture,  sculpture,  painting,  and 
music,  the  Greeks  were  superlatively  excellent. 

After  the  defeat  of  Xerxes,  the  Greeks,  secure  for  some  time 
from  foreign  invaders,  and  in  full  possession  of  their  liberty, 
achieved  with  distinguished  glory,  may  certainly  be  considered  as 
at  the  summit  of  their  grandeur  as  a  nation.  They  maintained 
for  a  considerable  time  their  power  and  independence,  and  distin- 
guished themselves  during  that  period  by  an  universality  of  genius 
unknown  to  other  ages  and  nations.  The  fine  arts  bear  a  near 
affinity  to  each  other;  and  it  has  seldom  been  known  in  «ny  age 
which  produced  or  encouraged  artists  in  one  department,  that 
there  were  wanting  others  who  displayed  similar  excellence  in  the 
rest.  Of  this,  both  ancient  and  modern  history  affords  ample 
proof,  in  the  ages  of  Pericles,  of  Leo  X.,  and  of  Lewis  Xl\ . 
The  arts  broke  out  at  once  with  prodigious  lustre  at  Athens,  under 
the  luxurious  administration  of  Pericles.  In  architecture  and 
sculpture,  Phidias  at  that  time  distinguished  himself  by  such  supe- 
rior ability,  that  his  works  were  regarded  as  wonders  by  the 
ancients,  as  long  as  any  knowledge  or  taste  remained  among 
them.  His  brother  Pana^us  (or  Pan?cnas)  was  an  able  J^ssistant 
\n  some  of  his  noblest  works,  and  is  himself  distinguished  as  the 
artist  who  painted  the  famous  picture  in  the  Pcecile  at  Athens, 
representing  the  battle  of  Marathon,  which  is  described  by  Pau- 
sanias  and  Pliny  as  so  perfect  a  picture,  that  it  presented  striking 
portraits  of  the  leaders  on  both  sides.  It  was  from  the  designs  of 
Phidias  that  many  of  the  noblest  buildings  of  Athens  were  reared; 
and  from  the  example  of  these,  a  just  and  excellent  taste  in  archi- 
tecture soon  diffused  itself  over  all  Greece.  Phidias  had  many 
disciples;  and  after  his  time  arose  a  succession  of  eminent  archi- 
tects, sculptors,  and  painters,  who  maintained  those  sister  arts  in 
his;h  jierfection  for  above  a  century,  till  after  the  death  of  Alex- 
flnder  the  Great.  This,  therefore,  may  be  termed  the  golden  age 
of  the  arts  in  Greece;  while  in  those  departments  the  contcmpo- 


CH    VII. J  GREECE RETROSPECT  22-5 

rary  nations  were  yet  in  the  rudest  ignorance.  We  sliall  after- 
wards see  what  reason  there  is  to  believe  that  tlie  Etruscans  were 
an  exception  from  this  observation  :  but  it  is  certain  that,  what- 
ever were  their  attainments  in  the  fine  arts  in  those  remote  ages, 
their  successors,  tl)e  Romans,  inherited  none  of  that  knowledge 
from  them  ;  for  at  the  period  of  the  conquest  of  Greece,  the  Ro- 
jnans  had  not  a  tincture  of  taste  in  those  arts,  till  they  caught  the 
infection  from  the  precious  spoils  which  the  sole  love  of  plunder 
theti  imported  into  Italy.  But  of  this  change  operated  on  the 
taste  and  manners  of  the  Romans,  we  shall,  in  its  proper  place, 
treat  more  at  large.  It  is  sufficient  here  to  observe,  that  even 
when  time  had  brought  the  arts  to  the  highest  perfection  they 
ever  attained  among  the  Romans,  this  people  never  ceased  to  ac- 
knowledge the  high  superiority  of  the  Greeks,  of  which  we  have 
this  convincing  proof,  that  when  the  Roman  authors  celebrate 
any  exquisite  production  of  art,  it  is  ever  the  work  of  a  Phidias, 
Praxiteles,  Lysippus,  Glycon,  Zeuxis,  Apellcs,  Parrhasius,  or,  in 
fine,  of  some  artist  who  adorned  that  splendid  period,  and  not  of 
those  who  had  worked  at  Rome,  or  who  had  lived  nearer  to  their 
own  times  than  the  age  of  Alexander  the  Great. 

The  Greeks  are  universally  acknowledged  as  the  parents  of 
architecture,  or  at  least  of  that  peculiar  style  of  which  all  after 
ages  have  confessed  the  superior  excellence.  The  Grecian  archi- 
tecture consisted  of  three  different  manners,  or  what  artists  havt 
termed  the  three  distinct  orders;  the  Doric^  Ionic,  and  Corintluan 
The  Doric  was  probably  the  first  regular  order  among  the  Greeks 
It  has  a  masculine  grandeur,  and  a  superior  air  of  strength  to  both 
the  others.  It  is,  therefore,  the  best  adapted  to  works  where 
magnitude  and  sublimity  are  the  principal  objects.  Some  of  the 
most  ancient  temples  of  Greece  were  of  this  order,  particularly 
that  of  Theseus  at  Athens,  built  ten  years  after  the  battle  of 
Marathon,  tiiat  is,  481  years  before  the  Christian  era;  a  fabric 
which  has  stood  more  than  2.300  years,  and  is  at  this  day  almost 
entire. 

One  observation  may  here  be  made  which  is  applicable  to  all  the 
works  of  taste.  The  character  of  sublimity  is  chaste  and  simple. 
In  the  arts  dependent  on  design,  if  tlie  artist  aim  at  this  character, 
he  must  disregard  all  trivial  decorations';  nor  must  the  eye  be  dis- 
tracted by  a  multiplicity  of  parts.  In  architecture,  there  must  be 
few  divisions  in  the  j)rincipal  members  of  the  building,  and  the 
parts  must  be  large  and  of  ample  relief.  There  must  be  a  mod- 
esty of  decoration,  contemning  all  minuteness  of  ornament,  which 
distracts  the  eye,  that  ought  to  be  filled  with  the  general  mass,  and 
with  the  proportions  of  the  greater  j)arts  to  each  other.  In  this 
respect  the  Doric  is  confessedly  superior  to  all  the  other  orders  of 
architecture,  as  it  unites  strength  and  majesty  with  a  becoming 
simplicity,  and  the  utmost  symmetry  of  proportions. 

As   the   benntiful  is   more   congenial  to   some   tastes   than    the 
VOL.  I.  29 


226  UMVKiis.vi,  nrsTOKY  [hook  ii 

suhlime^  tlic  lii^Iitiicss  and  el(\2;aricc  of  tlic  Ionic  onlor  will,  per- 
haps, find  more  admirers  than  llic  cliaslened  severity  of  the  Doric. 
The  latter  has  been  compared  to  the  robust  and  muscular  jjropor- 
tions  of  a  man,  while  the  former  has  been  Hkcned  to  the  finer,  more 
slender  and  delicate  proportions  of  a  woman.  Yet  the  character 
of  this  order  is  likewise  simplicity,  which  is  as  essential  a  requisite 
to  true  beauty  as  it  is  to  grandeur  and  sublimity.  But  the  sim- 
plicity of  beautv  is  not  inconsistent  with  that  degree  of  ornament 
wiiich  would  derogate  from  the  simplicity  of  the  sublime.  The 
Ionic  admits  widi  propriety,  of  decorations  which  would  be  unsuit- 
able to  the  Doric.  The  volute  of  the  Ionic  capital,  frequently 
ornamented  with  foliage,  the  entablature  consisting  of  more  parts, 
and  often  decorated  with  sculpture  in  basso^  and  even  alto  nlitvo; 
all  these  have  a  propriety  in  this  order  of  architecture,  which  is 
quite  agreeable  to  its  character.  Of  this  order  wore  constructed 
some  of  the  noblest  of  the  Greek  temples  ;  particularly  the  temple 
of  Apollo  at  Miletus,  that  of  the  Delphic  oracle,  and  the  superb 
temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus,  classed  among  the  wonders  of  the 
world. 

The  last  of  the  Grecian  orders  of  architecture  is  the  Corinthian. 
It  marks  a  period  of  luxury  and  magnificence,  when  pomp  and 
splendor  had  become  the  predominant  passion,  but  had  not  so  far 
prevailed  as  to  extinguish  the  taste  for  the  sublime  and  beautiful. 
It  liad  its  origin  at  Corinth,  one  of  the  most  luxurious  cities  of 
Greece;  and  was,  probably,  the  production  of  an  artist  who  wished 
to  strike  out  a  novelty  agreeable  to  the  reigning  affectation  of 
splendor,  and  to  preserve  at  the  same  time  a  grandeur  and  beauty 
of  [)roportions;  thus  studying  at  once  to  captivate  the  vulgar  eye, 
and  to  preserve  tlie  approbation  of  the  critic.  Of  this  order  were 
built,  many  of  the  most  super!)  tcmj)les  of  Greece,  particularly 
that  of  Jupiter  Olympius  at  Athens,  founded  by  Pisistratus,  but 
not  completely  finished  till  seven  hundred  years  after,  under  the 
reigu  of  Hadrian.  Its  remains  are  yet  very  considerable.  But 
pleasing  u<i  this  magnificent  order  may  be  to  the  general  taste,  it 
will  ho'<(  but  an  inferior  estimation  with  those  who  possess  a 
refined  judgment.  It  conveys  not  to  the  chastened  eye  that  calm 
and  3ober  pleasure  which  arises  from  grand  and  simple  symmetry, 
or  the  effect  of  a  few  striking  parts  united  to  produce  one  great 
and  harmonious  whole  ;  but  leads  off  the  attention  to  admire  the 
minute  elegance  of  its  divisions,  and  solicits  applause  less  from 
the  production  of  a  great  and  beautiful  etTect,  than  from  the  con- 
sideration of  the  labor,  the  cost,  and  artifice  employed  in  its  con- 
struction. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  give  some  idea  of  the  distinct 
characters  of  the  three  different  orders  of  Grecian  architecture. 
They  have  been  elegantly  and  happily  distinguished  by  the  poe* 
of  the  Seasons  : — 


CH     VII. J  GREEK    ARCHITECTURE.  227 


First  unadorned 


And  nobly  plain,  the  manly  Doric  rose  ; 
The  Ionic  then  with  decent  matron  grace 
Her  airy  pillar  heaved;  luxuriant  last, 
The  rich  Corinthian  spread  her  waiit<)n  wreath. 

Thomson's  Liberty,  part  li. 

The  foic'j'/jing  remarks,  it  must  be  observed,  are  applicable  only 
to  those  orders  such  as  we  find  them  in  the  chastest  models  of 
antitjuity.  It  is  but  too  certain  that  affectation  even  among  the 
ancients  corrupted  the  general  taste  ;  and  that  the  caprice  of  artists 
aimins^  at  novelty  and  singularity,  often  produced  very  faulty  devi- 
ations (rom  the  distinct  characters  of  each  of  those  orders.  The 
moderns.,  treading  in  their  steps,  have  indulged  a  license  still  more 
unbounded  ;  and  such  have  been  the  whimsical  innovations  of 
architects,  that  even  from  the  professed  treatises  on  the  art,  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  what  are  the  pure  and  unadulterated  models 
of  the  several  orders  ;  so  that,  had  not  time  happily  spared  to  us 
at  this  day  some  precious  remnants  of  the  genuine  archit(!cture  of 
the  Greeks  in  its  purity,  we  must  in  vain  have  sought  for  it,  either 
in  the  practice  of  architects,  or  in  their  writings. 

AVliile  on  the  subject  of  architecture,  which,  in  books  that  treat 
of  the  science,  exhibits  five  distinct  orders,  it  would  be  improper 
here  to  omit  mentioning  the  other  two,  the  Tuscan  and  the  Com 
posite,  though  of  Italian  origin;  or  to  pass  over  entirely  in  silence 
a  complete  species  of  architecture,  which,  arising  in  times  com- 
paratively modern  to  those  of  which  we  now  treat,  seems  to  have 
borrowed  nothing  from  those  models  of  antiquity,  but  to  depend 
on  principles  and  rules  peculiar  to  itself. 

The  Tuscan  order  is,  as  I  have  said,  of  Italian  origin.  The 
Etruscans,  long  before  the  era  when  Rome  is  supposed  to  have 
been  founded,  were  a  splendid,  an  opulent,  and  a  highly  polished 
people.  Of  this,  the  monuments  at  this  day  remaining  of  their 
works  in  sculpture  and  painting  afford  a  convincing  proof ;  for, 
not  to  mention  the  subjects  of  those  paintings  which  exhibit  all 
the  refinements  of  social  life,  the  very  eminence  which  they  evince 
in  the  art  of  design  presup])oscs  wealth,  luxury,  and  high  civiliza- 
tion. It  is  true,  those  paintings  are  supposed  to  have  been  the 
work  of  Oreek  artists;  but  if  those  artists  were  encouraged  by  the 
Etruscans,  and  wrought  for  them,  we  must  thence  of  necessity 
conclude  that  they  were  a  most  polished  people.  The  Etruscan 
architecture  appears  to  be  nearly  allied  to  the  Grecian,  but  to 
possess  an  inferior  degree  of  elegance.  The  more  ancient  build- 
ings of  Rome  were  probably  of  this  species  of  architecture,  though 
the  proper  Greek  orders  came  afterwards  to  I)e  in  more  general 
estimation.  A  respect,  however,  for  antiquity  prevented  the 
Romans  from  ever  entirely  abandoning  the  Tuscan  mode.  The 
Trajan  pillar  is  of  this  order  of  architecture.  This  magnificent 
column  has  braved  the  injuries  of  time,  and  is  entire  at  the  present 
day.     Its  excellence  consists  less  in  the  form  and  proportions  of 


228  UNIVERSVI,     IIISTOIIV.  [llOOR    il 

tlie  pillar,  lli.iii  in  llin  hoaiitifiil  sfMilpliirt.'  \vlii(  Ij  decoralos  it.  Of 
this  (iiio  sciilptiin',  ujiifli  rrjirr'scnts  the  virtorirs  of  Trajan  over 
iho  Darians,  a  very  adiMpiato  idea  may  ho  formed,  from  the  engrav- 
ings of  tlie  (U)lnmna  Trtijmvi  hy  IJartoli. 

The  Com|)osite  order,  likewise  of  Italian  extraction,  waa 
unknown  in  the  age  of  the  perfection  of  Greek  architectnre. 
Vitruviiis  makes  no  mention  of  it.  It  seems  to  have  been  the 
production  of  some  conceited  artist,  who  wanted  to  strike  out 
something  new  in  that  way,  or  to  evince  his  snj)criority  to  the 
ancient  masters;  but  it  serves  only  to  show  that  the  Greeks  had 
exhausted  all  the  j)rinciples  of  united  grandeur  and  beauty  in  the 
three  orders  before  mentioned,  and  to  prove  that  it  is  not  possible 
to  frame  a  new  order  unless  by  combining  and  slightly  varying  the 
old. 

The  Gothic  architecture,  which  is  often  found  to  produce  a  very 
striking  effect,  offers  no  contradiction  to  the  observations  I  have 
made  oh  the  different  orders  of  Grecian  architecture.  The 
effect  produced  by  the  Gothic  architecture  is  not  to  be  accounted 
for  on  the  same  principle  of  conformity  to  the  rules  of  symmetry 
or  harmony,  in  the  proportions  observed  between  the  several  parts; 
but  depends  on  a  certain  idea  of  vastness,  gloominess,  and  solem- 
nity, which  we  know  to  be  powerful  ingredients  in  the  sublime. 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear  some  pretended  cognoscenti 
— who  derive  all  their  opinions  from  certain  general  laws  of  tasre, 
which  they  want  the  capacity  of  applying  to  their  proper  subji^ct, 
and  have  no  guidance  of  a  natural  feeling  to  discern  where  tbty 
are  inapplicable — exclaim  with  great  emphasis,  that  it  is  surpri5"V5 
that  the  Italians,  who  had  before  them  so  many  precious  mon>» 
ments  of  the  Greek  architecture,  should  ever  have  given  into  « 
taste  so  barbarous  as  die  Gothic;  and  this,  perhaps,  while  the* 
are  gazing  with  vacancy  of  eye  upon  the  cathedral  of  Milan,  onr- 
of  the  noblest  Gothic  structures  in  the  world.  The  truth  is,  th» 
two  species  of  architecture  are  so  different,  that  no  comparisoi 
can  with  justice  be  instituted  between  them.  The  object,  indeed 
oi"  both  is  the  same — to  strike  with  pleasure,  or  with  awe;  biu 
they  employ  means  which  are  totally  distinct,  and  both  obtain 
their  ends.  I  have  observed  that  the  sublime  disregards  all  mi- 
nuteness of  ornament,  which  serves  but  to  distract  the  eye.  The 
Gothic  architecture  may  be  judged  to  off^end  in  that  particular, 
though  it  ought  to  be  considered  that  in  the  best  specimens  of 
Gothic  architecture,  even  where  we  find  that  minuteness  of  orna- 
ment, its  effect  is  counterbalanced  by  the  simplicity  of  the  greater 
members  of  the  fabric.  The  capital  of  a  Gothic  column,  it  is 
true,  is  crowded  with  a  profusion  of  fantastic  ornaments  of  men, 
beasts,  birds,  and  plants;  but  that  capital  itself  consists  of  few 
divisions;  its  column  is  of  a  magnitude  that  nobly  fills  the  eye; 
the  sudden  elevation  of  the  arch  has  something  bold  and  aspiring; 
and  while  we  contemplate  the  great  and   striking  members  of  the 


CH.  VII. J  ARCHITECTURE  229 

building,  the  minuteness  of  ornament  on  its  parts  is  but  transiently 
remarked,  or  noticed  only  as  a  sujterficial  decoration,  uliicii  de- 
tracts nothing  from  the  grand  effect  of  the  whole  mass. 

To  return  :  The  Greeks,  of  all  the  nations  of  antiquity,  pos- 
sessed an  unrivalled  excellence  in  the  arts  depending  on  design 
Sculpture  and  painting  were  brought  by  them  to  as  high  a  jiitch  of 
perfection  as  architecture.  It  is  the  peculiar  advantage  of  the  art 
of  sculpture,  that,  being  ordinarily  employed  on  the  most  durable 
materials,  and  such  as  possess  small  intrinsic  value,  it  bids  tho 
fairest  of  all  the  arts  to  eternize  the  fame  of  the  artist.  While  its 
works  resist  all  natural  decay  from  time,  they  afford  no  tcmi)tation 
to  alter  their  form,  in  which  consists  their  only  value.  They  may 
lie  hid  from  neglect  in  an  age  of  ignorance  :  but  they  are  safe, 
though  buried  in  the  earth  ;  and  avarice  or  industry,  to  supply  the 
demands  of  an  after  age  of  taste,  will  probably  recover  them. 
What  precious  remains  of  ancient  sculpture  have,  in  the  last  three 
centuries,  been  dug  out  of  the  ruins  of  Rome!  What  treasures 
may  we  suppose  yet  remain  in  Greece  and  in  the  rest  of  Italy! 
To  the  discovery  of  some  of  those  remnants  of  ancient  art  has 
been  attributed  the  revival  of  painting  and  sculpture,  after  their 
total  extinction  during  the  middle  ages.  This,  at  least,  is  certain, 
that,  till  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael,  feeling  the  beauties  of  the 
anlicjue,  began  to  emulate  their  noble  manner,  and  introduced  into 
their  works,  the  one  a  grandeur,  and  the  other  a  beauty  unknown 
to  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  the  manner  of  their  predecessors 
had  been  harsh,  constrained,  and  utterly  deficient  in  grace.  Mi- 
chael Angelo  was  so  smitten  with  the  beauties  of  the  antique,  that 
he  occupied  himself  in  drawing  numberless  sketches  of  a  mutilated 
trunk  of  a  statue  of  Hercules,  still  to  be  seen  at  Rome,  and  from 
him  called  the  Torso  of  Michael  Angelo.  Raphael,  whose  works 
have  entitled  him  to  the  same  epithet  which  the  Greeks  bestowed 
on  Apelles,  The  Divine — -Raphael  confessed  the  excellence  of 
the  antKji'e,  by  borrowing  from  it  many  of  his  noblest  airs  and 
itiiludes  ;  and  his  enemies  (for  merit  will  ever  have  its  enemies) 
feave  ar,serted,  that  of  those  gems  and  basso-relievos  which  he  had 
been  at  pains  to  collect  and  copy,  he  destroyed  not  a  few,  in  order 
ihat  the  beauties  he  had  thence  borrowed  might  pass  for  his  own. 
Die  practice  of  those  artists,  whose  names  are  tlie  first  among  the 
noderns,  affords  sulHcient  argument  of  the  superiority  of  the  an- 
cients. Their  works  remain  the  highest  models  of  the  art  ;  and 
tve  who,  in  the  imitation  of  the  human  figure,  have  not  nature, 
as  they  had,  constantly  before  our  eyes  undisguised,  and  in  hop 
most  graceful  and  sublimest  aspects,  can  find  no  means  so  short 
and  so  sure  to  attain  to  excellence,  as  by  imitating  the  antique. 

Every"  artist  should  accustom  his  eye  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  antique,  before  he  begins  to  work  after  nature  ;  for  this  reason, 
that  the  antique  presents  nature  without  her  defects,  offering  the 
collected    result   of  all    her   scattered    beauties,    and    these   even 


230  U.NIVKRSAF.     IIIiTOllY.  [bOOK   II. 

heightened  hy  the  iinaginalioii  of  ih(,'  artist.  The  srliohir  ulio  lias 
ihiis  inade  hiiiisclf  rainiliar  with  the  aiiti{|iie,  when  he  hegins  to 
iinitale  naliu'e,  will  immediately  (hseeni  hi-r  strii<iiig  heauties,  whicli, 
had  he  not  seen  them  in  the  anti(jiie,  se|)araiod  entirely  from  her 
blemishes,  he  might  never  iiave  learnt  from  his  owd  taste  to  sepa- 
rate in  the  objects  of  nature  ;  and  here,  it  may  be  remarked  by  the 
way,  lies  the  difl'erence  between  the  Flemish  and  the  Italian 
schools.  The  Flemirigs  were  ignorant  of  the  antique,  and  some 
of  them,  as  Rembrandt,  for  examjjle,  held  it  in  contemjjt.  Naturo 
was  their  prototype,  which,  it  n)ust  lie  allowed,  they  have  suc- 
cessfully imitated  ;  but  wanting  judgment  to  discern  her  striking 
beauties,  or  to  separate  them  from  her  defects,  and  utterly  uncon- 
scious of  that  ideal  beauty  which  results  from  this  judgment,  and 
towers  far  above  nature,  they  have  produced  nothing  noble,  no.hiiig 
graceful,  nothing  truly  great. 

I  have  said  that  the  ancients,  in  the  imitation  of  the  human 
figure,  had  nature  constantly  before  their  eyes  in  her  most  graceful 
and  snblimest  aspects.  The  games  of  Greece,  where  the  youth 
contended  naked  in  the  Palaestra,  afforded  a  noble  school  for  the 
improvement  of  sculpture  and  painting.  Their  artists  there  saw 
the  finest  figures  of  Greece  in  all  the  possible  variety  of  altitudes — 
an  advantage  which  no  modern  academy  ol  design  can  furnish. 
What  is  it  that  strikes  the  intellectual  eye  in  the  ancient  Greek 
statues.''  It  is  a  grandeur  united  with  simplicity — an  unafTected 
air  of  beauty  or  of  dignity,  which  is  the  result  of  the  artist's  obser- 
vation of  nature  unconstrained.  The  naked  model  in  our  acade- 
mies of  painting,  w  ho  is  desired  to  throw  his  body  into  such  an 
attitude  of  exertion  as  the  jiainter  wishes  to  copy,  will  show  that 
attitude  much  more  constrained  and  unnatural  than  a  gladiator, 
for  instance,  or  a  wrestler,  who  is  thrown  into  it  unconsciously  by 
a  natural  effort  in  a  real  combat  in  the  arena.  Could  the  artist 
who  cut  the  admirable  figure  of  the  Dying  Gladiator  in  the  Capitol, 
have  copied  the  wonderfully  simple  and  natural  position  of  the 
limbs,  the  relaxing  muscles,  and  failing  strength  ;  or  the  lineaments 
of  the  face,  expressive  of  the  utmost  anguish,  yet  endured  with 
manly  fortitude  ;  could  the  sculptor  have  copied  all  this  from  the 
model  of  a  figure  in  the  academy?  It  is  utterly  impossible  ;  no 
artificial  disposition  of  the  body  could  give  the  smallest  idea  of  it. 
It  is  this  same  statue  of  the  Dying  Gladiator  of  which  Pliny  speaks, 
and  which  he  has  so  admirably  characterized  in  a  few  words 
"  Cresilas  vuhierntum  dificientem  fecil.,  in  quo  possii  intcUigt 
quantum  re^tct  animct.''* 

In  like  manner,  in  the  admirable  group  of  Niobe  and  her  child- 
ren, believed  by  some  to  be  the  work  of  Praxiteles,  and  by  others 


"  "  With  siii'h  admirable  art  was  the  statue  of  the  Dying  Gladiator  sculptured 
by  Cresilas,  tliat  one  covld  judge  how  much  of  life  remained." 


CII.   Vll.]  GRECIAN    ART.  231 

of  Scopas,  *  the  various  attitudes  there  exliibiteil,  though  the  most 
impassioned  that  can  well  be  conceived,  are  yet  akogether  so 
natural,  so  simple,  and  unaffected,  that  they  demonstrate  the 
source  from  which  they  were  drawn  to  iiave  been  nature  itself, 
under  the  actual  influence  of  passions  similar  to  what  the  sculptor 
has  expressed.  Even  in  those  single  statues  unexpressive  of  pas- 
sion, and  where  no  particular  action  is  represented,  as  in  the  Antin- 
ous  and  the  little  Apollo,  there  is  an  ease  and  freedom  of  attitude 
which  convinces  us  at  first  sight  that  the  sculptor  was  not  the 
servile  copyist  of  a  figure  planted  before  him  and  directed  to  throw 
his  limbs  into  a  proper  position,  as  a  model  in  the  academy.  The 
sculptors  of  those  statues  drew  from  nature,  but  it  was  from  nature 
unconstrained  ;  it  was  that  their  eyes  were  familiarly  acquainted 
with  those  attitudes ;  they  saw  them  daily  in  their  games  and 
spectacles,  and  that  habit  of  observation  enabled  them  faithfully 
to  represent  them. 

Froni  this  air  of  unrestrained  nature,  and  iiarticularly  from  that 
expression  of  calmness  and  of  ease  which  is  observable  in  many  of 
the  ancient  statues,  and  whicli  indicates  the  freedom  of  gesture  of 
a  person  alone  and  unconscious  of  being  observed,  results  that 
wonderful  grace,  which  so  few  of  the  modern  artists  have  attained 
the  ability  of  expressing.  Perhaps  we  may  even  doubt  whether 
many  of  those  artists  have  ever  felt  its  excellence.  To  most 
modern  artists  and  modern  connoisseurs,  the  sedate  grandeur,  the 
simple  and  quiet  attitude,  appear  lifeless  and  insipid.  "  The 
figure,"  iliey  will  tell  you,  "wants  spirit:  where  is  the  air  of  the 
head.''  The  limbs  are  carelessly  disposed  ;  they  want  attitude:  " 
and  the  critic,  to  illustrate  his  meaning,  will  throw  himself  into  a 
stage  posture,  or  what  are  faithful  copies  of  those  postures,  the 
paintings  of  the  French  school.  Hogarth,  in  his  ^^nalysis  of 
Beauty,  has  happily  ridiculed  this  miserable  taste,  by  representing 
a  French  dancing-master  standing  by  the  side  of  the  beautiful 
figure  of  the  Jintinous,  and  teaching  the  awkward  youth  to  hold 
up  his  head,  and  put  on  the  air  of  a  man  of  fashion.  Such  indeed 
are  the  fantastic  innovations  introduced  by  modern  manners  and 
fashion  in  disguising  the  human  figure,  that  the  sculptor  or  painter 
has  no  longer  nature  for  his  school  of  instruction,  nor  can  any  other- 
wise form  a  conception  of  her  genuine  and  unsophisticated  features 
than  by  contemplating  them  reflected  in  the  precious  works  of  the 
ancient  masters. 

*  Praxiteles  flourishi'd  2ti[)  n.  c.  His  merits,  and  an  pimnioralion  of  his  princi- 
pal works  in  sculpture,  may  Ih;  found  in  Pliny,  lib.  34,  c.  8  ;  and  lih.  '.W,  c.  5.  He 
rxcplifd  chifflv  in  female  tieauty,  and  more  particularly  in  tlie  iieads  and  arms  of 
his  fiijures,  which  were  consummately  irraeefnl.  The  famous  courtesan,  Phrvne, 
was  the  model  for  his  Cnidian  Venus,  which  is  yet  preserved,  and  known  to  the 
moderns  by  the  name  of  the  Venus  de  Medici.  t>ca|)Ts  flourished  A'.V)  b.  c. 
Many  of  his  works  are  enumerated  by  Pliny,  lib.  30,  c.  5;  and  it  is  sufficient  ar 
pument  of  his  talents  to  say  that  the  best  judges  of  antiquity  deemed  many  of  hia 
Btalues  oqiial  to  those  of  Praxiti.-les 


2<>2  UMVEHSAi.  msToiir.  _]book  i; 

Ainoiip;  llio  GrcMjks,  Nature  was  not  only  socii  uitliout  disguise 
and  ill  her  noblest  and  most  graceful  attitudes;  she  was  in  reality 
in  the  luiuiaii  rii:;ure  superior  to  wlial  we  now  see  in  the  ordinary 
race  of  men.  NVithout  indulging  the  whimsical  hypothesis  of  some 
pjjilnsophers,  that  the  moderns,  com|)ared  with  the  ancients,  are 
a  degenerate  breed,  it  may  safely  be  asserted,  that  among  the 
ancient  Greeks^  the  youth,  trained  from  infancy  in  the  daily  prac- 
tice of  gymnastic  exercises,  must  have  exiiibiied  a  finer  form  of 
body,  a  more  j)erfect  symmetry  of  limbs,  and  a  shape  more  pic- 
tures(pie,  than  what  must  necessarily  result  from  the  constraint  of 
the  modern  tnethod  of  clothing,  and  the  luxurious  and  compara- 
tively efleminate  system  of  modern  education.  The  varied  forms 
of  manly  beauty  exhibited  in  the  Pythian  Apollo,  the  Antinous, 
and  the  Fighting  Gladiator,  (if  this  statue  be  rightly  so  named,) 
are  evidently  Hir  beyond  the  model  of  the  human  figure  as  we  see 
it  in  the  j)rcsent  race  of  men  ;  but  we  lunc  every  reason  to  believe 
that  their  prototypes  were  to  be  found  in  tiiose  ages  to  which  we 
now  refer,  though  doubtless  we  must  at  the  same  time  make  allow- 
ance for  the  genius  of  the  artist,  in  exalting  and  improving  even 
that  excellent  Nature  which  presented  itself  to  his  eyes.  In  con- 
templating the  figure  of  the  Farnesian  Hercules,  the  work  of 
Glycon,  (what  Horace,  by  an  allowable  metonymy,  has  termed 
the  invicti  membra  Glyconis,*)  and  in  considering  the  prodigious 
strength  of  the  back  and  shoulders,  and  strongly-marked  distinction 
of  the  muscles  in  the  breast  and  arms,  we  are  apt  at  first  view  to 
censure  the  form  as  exaggerated  beyond  all  nature:  but  in  this 
superficial  judgment  we  forget  what  was  that  nature  which  the 
sculptor  had  for  his  model  of  imitation,  and  do  not  consider,  that 
to  personify  a  divinity  whose  characteristic  attribute  was  strength, 
it  was  necessary  that  that  nature,  superior  as  it  was,  should  be 
amplified  and  exalted  by  the  imagination  of  the  artist.  Of  this 
heightening  of  nature  the  Greek  sculptors  have  given  the  noblest 
examples  in  the  representation  of  their  gods:  "  Non  vidit  Phidias 
Jovem,"says  Seneca,  "  nee  stetit  ante  oculos  ejus  Minerva:  dignus 
tamen  ilia  arte  animus  et  concepit  deos,  et  exhibuit."f 

And  this  leads  me  to  remark  what  must  have  been  likewise 
another  and  a  very  powerful  source  of  the  advancement  of  the 
arts  of  design  among  the  Greeks.  The  Grecian  mythology  furn- 
ished a  most  ample  source  for  the  exercise  of  the  genius  of  the 
painter  and  sculptor.  The  distinct  and  characteristic  attributes  of 
the  several  deities,  their  actions,  and  the  poetical  fables  connected 


* "  The  limbs  of  the  invincible  Glycon,"  for  the  invincible  limbs  of  hia 
statue. 

•  "  riiidias  never  saw  Jupiter,  nor  did  Minerva  present  herself  to  his  eyes  :  but 
his  mind,' worthy  of  his  art,  both  formed  Uiose  divine  conceptions  and  represented 
them." 


C(l.   VM.]  GRECIAN    ART.  235 

with  their  history,  fLirnished  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  sublime, 
beautiful,  and  highly  pleasing  subjects.  We  know,  since  the 
revival  of  the  arts,  how  much  those  of  painting  and  sculj)ture  have 
been  indebted  to  the  Roman  Catholic  religion,  which  furnishes 
not  only  an  abundant  demand  for  the  works  of  the  artist,  but  sup- 
plies him  with  an  endless  variety  of  subjects  in  the  lives  of  its 
numerous  saints  and  martyrs.  But  in  this  respect  at  least  tiie 
Roman  Catholic  religion  must  yield  to  that  of  Greece,  that  the 
painful  and  often  shocking  scenes  which  it  presents  for  the  pencil 
will  bear  no  comparison  with  the  varied,  gay,  and  amusing  pictures 
of  the  pagan  mythology. 

Of  the  ability  of  the  Greeks  in  painting,  we  must  speak  with 
more  diffidence  than  we  have  done  of  their  superiority  in  sculp- 
ture. Of  the  latter,  those  admirable  works  yet  reinaining,  justify 
the  highest  encomium  that  can  be  bestowed  upon  them.  Of  the 
former,  it  would  be  unjust  to  form  any  estimate  from  those  incon- 
siderable specimens  supposed  of  Grecian  painting,  which  lime  has 
yet  left  unde^troyed.  The  paintings  discovered  in  Ilerculaneum, 
the  celebrated  picture  of  a  marriage  in  the  Aldobrandini  collection, 
those  found  in  the  Sepnlchrum  jYasonianiim  at  Rome,  and  other 
pieces  enumerated  by  Dutens,*  were  probably  the  work  of  Greek 
artists;  for  we  have  no  evidence  that  the  Romans  ever  carried  any 
of  the  ails  depending  on  design  to  much  perfection.  But  wiili 
regard  to  the  Greeks  the  case  is  very  different.  Their  excellence 
in  the  art  of  painting  is  loudly  proclaimed  by  all  antifjuity.  Of 
their  eminence  in  the  kindred  art  of  sculpture  we  are  ourselves  the 
judges.  Now  we  cannot  reasonably  call  in  question  the  taste  of 
those  ancient  authors  who  have  written  in  praise  of  the  paintings 
of  the  Greeks,  when  we  find  the  same  judgment  which  they  have 


*  As  I\I.  Dutnns,  in  his  amusing  and  instructive  essay  on  the  Discoveries 
attributed  to  tiie  Aloderns,  lias  enumerated,  it  is  believed,  all  the  e.xisliiijr  re- 
mains of  the  genuine  paintings  of  the  ancients,  it  may  afford  satisfaetlinn  to 
readers  of  curiosity,  to  see  the  complete  catalogue  as  given  by  (hat  author. 
"  The  ancient  paintings  still  to  he  seen  at  Rnme  are,  a  n-clining  Venus  at  full 
length,  in  the  paLifc  uf  Barberini,  the  Aldobrandine  nuptials,  a  ('oiiolanus  in 
.me  of  the  cells  of  Titus'  b;itiis,  and  seven  other  pieces  taken  out  of  a  vault  at 
Ihe  fool  of  Mount  I'alatine,  among  which  are  a  Satyr  drinking  out  of  a  horn, 
Kiiil  a  landscape  with  figures,  both  of  the  utmost  beauty.  There  arc  also  a 
Bicrificial  picre  consisting  of  three  fi(rures.  and  an  (Kdi|)us  and  a  S|)hin.\,  all  of 
which  ('irin<"rlv  belongi'd  to  the  lonil>  of  Ovid.  The  pictures  discovered  at 
Mcrculaneuin  disclose  beyond  all  others  a  happiness  of  design  and  boldness  of 
expression  that  could  [iroceed  only  frfun  the  hands  of  the  most  accomplif'hed 
artists.  Tlie  picture  of  Theseus  vaii(|uishing  the  Minotaur,  that  of  the  birtl  of 
Telephus,  Chiron,  and  Achilles,  and  I'an  and  (^lympe,  present  innumerable 
beauties  to  all  pi^rsons  of  disci'rnment.  '{'here  were  found,  also,  in  Uie  ruins  of 
that  city,  f  >ur  capital  pictures,  wherein  l)eanty  of  design  seems  to  vie  with  the 
most  skilful  mannijement  of  the  pencil,  and  which  appear  to  be  of  an  earlier 
dale  than  those  before  spoken  of." — Diitnis,  p.  M70.  [Some  paintings  of  great 
spirit  have,  since  our  author  wrote,  been  discovered  at  I  ompeii  ;  but  these  were 
only  i\ie  furniturc-piclurcs,  so  to  speak,  of  a  private  residence  in  a  prorinciaJ 
town.] 

VOL.   I.  30 


234  UNIVERSAL    HISTOIIV.  [UOOK    II 

given  upon  the  works  of  sfuljihin^  qonfiinifd  by  tlio  univcrsa. 
assent  of  modern  critics.  If  we  find  that  Pliny  is  not  guilty  of 
exaggeration  or  censurable  for  false  taste  wben  lie  extols  liie  noble 
group  of  Laocoon  and  his  sons,*  terming  it  "a  work  excelling  all 
that  the  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture  have  ever  produced,"  why 
should  we  sujjposc  that  he  exaggerated,  or  that  his  taste  was  not 
eijually  just,  when  he  celebrates  the  |)raises  and  critically  charac- 
terizes the  diderent  manners  and  distinct  merits  of  Zeuxis,f 
Apelles,  Arisiides  the  Theban,  j  Parrhasius,  Protogenes  ana 
Timanthes?  Parrhasius  seems  to  have  been  the  Correggio  of 
antiquity  ;  possessing  the  talent,  and  displaying  the  pleasing,  ele- 
gant, and  rounded  contour  of  this  artist.  Pliny,  (lib.  35,  c.  10,) 
in  characterizing  the  paintings  of  this  artist,  commends  chiefly  in 
his  figures  the  argutias  vuUm^  elegnntiam  capiUi^  ct  veniislatem 
ons.,§  and  highly  praises  the  correctness  of  his  outline.  The  same 
writer  mentions  an  allegorical  paintin';  of  Parrhasius,  representative 
of  the  character  of  the  Athenians,  in  which  tlie  artist  seems  to  have 
formed  a  just  idea  of  that  inconstant  and  fickle  populace.  "  Pinxit 
et  Demon  Alheniensium,  argumento  quoqiie  ingejiioso  :  volebat 
namque  varitim,  iracundum^  injiistum.,inconstantem — cundem  exora- 
bilem,  clemcnlem,  miscricordem^  exa  hum,  gloriosum,  humikm^pro' 
cem,  fugaccmque,  et  omnia  pariter   ostendere.'"  \\     It  were  to  be 


"  "  Sicnt  in  Lancoonte,  qui  est  in  Titi  Impcratnris  domo.opus  omnibus  Pt  picturre 
el  staluarifE  artis  proefeicnduin,  ex  uno  liipide  eiiin  pt  liberos  dranonuinqiip  mirabi- 
les  nexus  de  consilii  sententia  fecere  suinnii  artifices  Agesander  et  Polydorus  et 
Athenodorus  Rhodii." — Plin.  1.  xxxvi.  c.  5. 

t  Zeuxis  flourished  397  b.  c.  The  ancient  authors  are  very  hi£rh  in  tlieir 
praises  of  tlie  woiks  of  this  great  painter.  He  was  pecuharly  excellent  in  paint- 
ing female  beauty.  Dionysius  of  Halicamnssus  informs  us  that  the  people  of 
Crotona,  wantinir  him  to  paint  a  naked  Helen,  sent  him  five  of  the  most  beautiful 
young  women  of  their  city,  whose  separate  perfections  he  united  in  his  picture, 
and  produced  a  miracle  of  beautv.  Cicero  o-ives  the  story  at  large,  and  ron  nmnre. 
Ho  tells  us  that  Zeu.xis  was  brought  to  the  Palirstra  and  shown  a  great  numbei 
of  the  most  beautiful  boys.  "  These,"  said  his  conductors,  "  have  as  many  sis- 
ters, whose  beauty  you  may  easily  guess  from  what  you  now  see."  "IS'ay,  but," 
said  Zeuxis,  "  send  me  the  young  women."  The  Crotonians  held  a  public  coun- 
cil on  that  requpst,  and  it  was  agreed  to  furnish  him  with  what  he  demanded. — 
Cic.  de  Inrcnt.  Rhet.  1.  2. 

t  Aristides  flourished  in  the  age  of  Alexander  the  Great,  and  was  contemporary 
with  Apelles,  Parrhasius,  and  Timanthes.  Plitiy  says  of  Aristides,  that  his 
paintings  were  the  first  which  gave  the  expression  of  the  soul  and  the  feelings  : 
and  as  an  instance,  he  mentions  a  celebrated  picture  of  Aristides,  in  which,  in  s 
besieired  citv.  a  mother  is  represented  dying  of  a  wound  in  her  breast,  and  holding 
back  her  child  lest  it  should  suck  blood  instead  of  milk  ;  a  picture  which  is  sup 
posed  to  be  the  subject  of  a  beautiful  epigram  in  the  Anthologia,  thus  happily 
translated  by  Webb,  in  his  Beauties  of  Peiinting  : 

"  Suck,  little  wretch,  while  yet  tliy  mother  lives, 
Suck  the  last  drop  her  fainting  bosom  gives  : 
She  dies;  her  tenderness  survives  her  bieatii, 
And  her  fond  love  is  provident  in  death." 

I  "  The  arch  expression,  the  beautj'  of  the  hair,  and  charm  of  the  mouth. 

I| "  He  painted  also  an  ingenious  allegorical  picture  of  tlie  Genius  of  the  Athe 


en.  VIII.]  GRECIAN    AUT.  235 

wislied  that  Pliny  had  given  us  some  idea  of  the  composition  of  a 
pictiiie  so  extraordinary  in  point  of  subject. 

If  Parrliasius  was  the  Correggio,  Apelles  was  indisputably  the 
Raphael  of  antiquity  :  "  Omnes  prius  isenitos.,  fulurosquc  postea 
supcravit  Jlpelles,"*  are  the  words  of  Pliny,  who,  in  his  estimates 
of  the  works  of  art,  is  generally  supposed  to  speak  less  from  his 
own  t^iste  than  from  the  common  opinion  of  the  best  judges  of 
antiquity.  The  peculiar  excellence  of  Apelles,  as  of  Raphael, 
lay  in  that  consummate  gracefulness  of  air  which  he  imparted  to 
his  figures,  and  in  which  he  surpassed  all  his  rivals  in  the  arts. 
'•'■  Prcbcipua  ApeUis  in  arte  venustas  fuit,  cum  eddcm  a'tate  maximi 
pictores  essent;  quorum  opera  quum  admiraretur,  coUaudatis  am- 
nibus,  dcesse  Us  unam  illam  venerem  dicebat  quam  Grceci  Xuaua 
vacant  :  ccetera  omnia  contigisse^  sed  hac  soli  sibi  neminem 
parem."  J — Plin.  1.  35,  c.  10.  It  is  well  known  that  Alexander 
the  Great  had  the  highest  esteem  of  this  artist  ;  and  having  em- 
ployed him  to  paint  his  mistress  Campaspe,  showed  a  singular 
example  of  generosity  and  self-command,  in  bestowing  her  as  a 
gift  on  his  friend  the  painter,  who  had  fallen  in  love  with  his 
beautiful  model.  It  was  a  high  testimony  to  the  merits  of  the 
artists,  but  it  was  at  the  same  time  a  judicious  policy  for  himself, 
that  Alexander  would  suffer  no  other  painter,  statuary,  or  engraver, 
to  form  his  effigy,  than  Apelles,  Lysippus,  and  Pyrgoteles  ;  a  fact 
which  accounts  for  the  singular  beauty  and  excellence  of  all  the 
figures  yet  remaining  of  that  prince. 

To  the  merits  of  Protogenes,  a  critic  of  genuine  taste  among  the 
ancients  has  borne  a  high  testimony  :  I  speak  of  Petronius  Arbiter. 
That  author,  mentioning  his  having  seen  in  the  palace  of  Trimal- 
chio  (Nero)  some  sketches  by  the  hand  of  Protogenes,  says  that 
on  handling  them,  he  felt  a  reverential  awe,  as  if  they  had  been 
something  more  than  human. J  It  was  to  the  high  excellence  of 
Protogenes  as  an  artist,  that  the  city  of  Rhodes,  the  place  of  his 
nativity,  owed  its  preservation  when  besieged  by  Demetrius  Poli- 
orcetes.     When  that  prince  sa\>  no  other  means  of  reducing  the 

nians,  rpprespntinjr  a  being  at  one  and  the  same  time  fickle,  irascilile,  unjust,  in- 
constant, yet  placable  and  compassionate,  vainglorious  yet  humble,  ferocious  yel 
cowardly." 

*  "  Apelles  surpassed  all  who  had  gone  before,  and  all  who  will  ever  come  after 
him." 

t  "  In  the  grace  of  his  pictures  Apelles  surpassed  all  the  ffreat  painters  of  his 
arrp  :  whatever  praise  was  bestowed  on  their  works,  still  that  pecuhar  beauty 
which  the  Greeks  term  Xuinra  (Grace)  was  wanting  ;  in  the  otiier  qualities  f)f 
lii.s  art,  others  may  have  attained  equal  perfection,  but  in  this  he  was  unrival 
led." 

t  In  pinacothecam  perveni  vario  gonere  tabularuin  mirabilem  ;  nam  etZeuxidos 
manus  vidi,  nnndum  vetustatis  injuria  virfas  ;  el  Prntogenis  rudimenta  cum  ipsiua 
nalurtE  verilatc  certantia,  non  sine  quodam  horrore  tractavi.  Jam  vero  Apellif 
quam  Gra'ri  innnocnimon  appellant,  etiarn  adoravi.  Tanta  enim  sublilitate  ex- 
.remitales  imaginiim  crant  ad  siinilitudincm  priBcism,  ut  credcres  etiam  animorum 
esse  picturain. — Pet   Arb.  Satyr. 


256  UMVKusAr,  iiisroKY.  [nooK  ii 

cily  than  by  scltiii,!:i;  it  on  Civo  In  a  jjarlicular  f|narlor,  .n  wliich 
lliLTC  was  a  cclehrattHl  j)ainliiig  of  I'rotogcncs,  \\t:  cUosc  ratlicr  to 
libandon  the  enterprise  than  hazard  the  destiiiclion  of  what  was, 
in  his  opinion,  of  the  highest  value. 

On  the  whole,  if  we  have  not  the  same  dcMnonstrative  evidence 
of  the  attainments  of  the  Greeks  in  painting  tliat  vvc  have  of  their 
eminence  in  sculpture,  namely,  the  existing  monuments  (jf  the 
art,  we  have  every  degree  of  presumptive  evidence  which  the  sub- 
ject can  admit  to  warrant  an  oj)inion  of  an  equal  degree  of  excel- 
lence. These  arts  require  the  same  talents,  their  progress  is  influ- 
enced by  the  same  moral  causes,  they  owe  their  advancement  to 
the  same  taste  and  genius;  and  it  is  impossible  to  suppose  the  one 
to  have  been  successfully  cultivated  in  any  age  or  nation,  whilo 
the  other  remained  in  a  rude  and  imperfect  state.* 

If  any  apology  were  necessary  for  the  length  of  the  preceding 
observations  on  the  state  of  the  arts  in  Greece,  I  would  remar"k, 
that  as  it  is  the  province  of  history  to  exhibit  the  character  and 
genius  of  nations,  so  the  national  character  of  the  Greeks  was  in 
nothing  more  signally  displayed  than  in  those  branches  of  art  to 
which  I  have  called  the  reader's  attention  in  this  chapter.  In 
tracing  the  mutual  relation  of  moral  and  political  causes,  this  pecu- 
liar genius  of  the  Greeks  will  be  found  to  have  extended  its  influ- 
ence to  the  revolutions  of  their  states,  and  to  their  fate  as  a  nation. 
Its  advancement  marked  the  decline  of  the  severer  morals  and  the 
fall  of  the  martial  sj)Irit  ;  for  the  fine  arts  cannot  exist  in  splendor, 
but  in  a  soil  of  luxury  and  of  ease.  The  taste  for  these  supplanted 
the  appetite  for  national  glory,  and  at  length  ignominiously  sup- 
plied the  place  of  public  virtue.  The  degenerate  Greeks  were 
consoled  for  the  loss  of  their  liberty  by  the  flattering  distinction  of 
being  the  humanizers  of  their  conquerors,  the  magistri  et  arbitri 
elegantiarum  to  the  unpolished  Romans. 


•  For  a  most  ample  account  of  the  ancient  painters,  sculptors,  and  architects, 
drawn  from  the  writings  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  authors,  the  reader  is  referred 
to  the  learned  work  ol' Junius  de  Pictura  J  eUruvi,  a.nd  the  catalogue  of  artist* 
subjoined  to  that  work.  See  likewise  a  very  ingenious  and  learned  Dissertation 
on  the  Painting  of  the  Ancients,  by  T.  Cooper,  Esq.,  in  the  third  volume  of  Mem 
of  the  Lit.  and  Phil.  Soc.  of  Manchester. 


,11.1  GRECIAN    GAMES  4*.^ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Fubllc  grt  OS  of  Greece — IlfTects  on  character — Manners — Poetical  composition 
anterior  o  prose  —  Homer — Hcsiod — Arcliilochus — Terpander — Snpplio — Pin- 
dar—  A,-tcreon — The  Greek  epigram  —  The  Greek  comedy,  distmgnshed 
into  the  .Id,  the  middle,  and  the  new  —  Aristophanes  —  Men;inder  —  Greek 
tragedy—  ^-chylus — Kuripides  —  Sopiionlc-s — Mode  of  dramatic  representa- 
tion—Thv  -jpcient  drama  set  to  music — Tlie  Mimes  and  Pantomimes  —  Of  tiie 
Greek  hist,  v'ans— Herodotus — Thncydides— Xenophon  —  Polybius —  Diodorua 
Sicuius — D.^»ysius  of  Halicarnassus  — Arrian — Plutarch. 

Under  ihe  bAfly  part  of  the  Grecian  history  we  had  occasion  to 
treat  of  the  Of.,!^iii,  and  somewhat  of  the  nature,  of  the  public 
games  of  Greece?.  Among  all  nations,  in  that  period  of  society 
when  war  is  not  ».idiiced  to  a  science,  but  every  battle  is  a  multi- 
tude of  single  ccuibats,  we  find  those  exercises  in  frequent  use 
which  tend  to  nicrease  the  bodily  strength  and  activity.  The 
Greeks,  however,  seem  to  have  been  the  first  who  reduced  the 
athletic  exercises  to  a  system,  and  considered  them  as  an  object  of 
general  attention  and  importance.  The  Panathenaean,  and  after- 
wards the  Olympic,  the  Pythian,  the  Nemsan,  and  the  Isthmian 
games,  were  under  the  sanction  of  the  laws,  and  subject  to  the 
regulations  laid  down  by  the  ablest  statesmen  and  legislators. 
They  were  resorted  to,  not  only  by  the  citizens  of  all  the  states  of 
Greece,  but  even  by  the  neighboring  nations.  Thus  not  only 
was  a  spirit  of  union  and  good  understanding  kept  up  between  the 
several  slates,  which,  in  spite  of  their  frequent  dissensions  and 
hostilities,  made  them  always  regard  each  other  as  countrymen, 
and  unite  cordially  against  a  common  enemy;  but  this  partial 
intercourse  which  the  games  produced  with  the  inhabitants  of  other 
countries,  induced  an  acquaintance  with  tiieir  manners  and  genius, 
and  contributed  very  early  to  polish  away  the  rust  of  barbarism. 
In  those  games,  therefore,  we  may  see  the  cause  of  two  opposite 
eflects:  tliat  Greece,  in  the  early  period  of  her  history,  was  dis- 
tinguished for  martial  ardor  and  military  prowess;  and  that  in  the 
latter  ages,  elegance,  politeness,  and  refinement  were  her  predomi- 
nant characteristics. 

This  passion  of  the  Greeks  for  shows  and  games,  extremely 
raudable,  and  even  beneficial,  when  confined  within  due  bounds, 
was  carried,  at  length,  to  a  most  blnmable  and  pernicious  excess. 
The  victor,  in  the  Olymjiic  games,  who  had  gained  the  first  prize 
at  running,  wrestling,  or  driving  a  chariot,  was  crowned  with  higher 
honors  than  the    general  who  had  gained  a  decisive  battle.     His 


238  UNIVERSAL    HISTORT.  [  BOOK   IL 

praises  were  sung  hy  the  poets  ;  lie  had  slatucs,  and  even  temples, 
dedicated  lo  his  name.  Cicero  remarks,  that  among  the  Greeks 
It  was  accounted  more  glorious  to  carry  o/Tihe  pahn  at  the  Olympic 
games,  than  among  the  Romans  to  have  ohtained  tlie  honors  of  a 
triumph.  *  Of  these  nations,  it  was  easy  to  foretell  which  was 
doomed  to  be  the  master,  and  which  the  slave. 

The  games  of  Greece  were  not  exclusively  aj)propriatcd  to 
gymnastic  and  adiletic  exercises.  Those  immense  assemblies 
were  the  resort,  likewise,  of  the  poets,  the  historians,  the  rliapso- 
dists,  and  even  the  philosophers. 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  that  in  all  nations  there  have  been  poets 
before  there  were  writers  in  prose.  The  most  ancient  prose 
writers  among  the  Greeks,  of  whom  we  have  any  mention,  Phe- 
recydes  of  Scyros,  and  Cadmus  of  Miletus,  were  posterior  above 
350  years  to  Homer.  Of  those  poets  who  preceded  Homer,  some 
of  whom  are  supposed  to  have  been  anterior  to  the  Tiojan  war, 
as  Linus  and  Orpheus,  we  have  no  remains,  f 

Homer,  of  whose  birth  both  the  place  and  the  era  are  very  un- 
certain, is,  according  to  the  most  probable  opinion,  believed  to 
have  been  a  native  of  Ionia,  and  to  have  flourished  277  years  after 
the  taking  of  Troy;  that  is,  970  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ. 
This  illustrious  man,  the  father  of  poetry,  was,  probably,  a  wan- 
dering minstrel,  who  earned  his  subsistence  by  strolling  from  one 
city  to  another,  and  frequenting  public  festivals  and  the  tables  of 
the  great,  where  his  music  and  verses  procured  him  a  welcome 
reception.  Lycurgus,  the  Spartan  lawgiver,  is  said  to  have  been 
the  first  who  brought  from  Ionia  into  Greece  complete  copies  of 
the  Iliad  and  Odyssey;  which,  however,  were  not  arranged  in  the 
order  in  which  we  now  see  them,  till  250  years  afterwards,  by 
Pisistratus,  tyrant  of  Athens.  The  method  which  he  took  to  col- 
lect those  poems,  by  offering  rewards  to  all  who  could  recite,  or 
produce  in  writing,  any  of  the  compositions  of  Homer,  renders  it 
probable  that  those  poems  had  originally  been  composed  in  de- 
tached ballads,  or  rhapsodies. |  From  these  various  recitations, 
which  were  carefully  transcribed,  Pisistratus  caused  certain  learned 
men  of  his  court  to  prepare  what  they  considered  the  most  per- 
fect copies,  and  to  methodize  the  whole  into  regular  poems,  as  we 


*  Propc  majus  et  gloriosius  quam  RomtB    triumphasse. — Ac.   Oral,    pro   Flaceo 

t  Linus  is  feigned  to  liave  been  the  son  of  Apollo,  and  is  said  to  have  been 
the  first  lyric  poet.  Stobfcus  gives  some  verses  under  the  name  of  Linus;  but 
they  are  believed  not  to  be  authentic  The  fragment's  published  under  the 
name  of  Orpheus,  in  the  Poff<C7n;7iore5  Grfffi,  and  other  collections,  are  plainly 
supposititious,  being  entirely  destitute  of  the  air  of  remote  antiquity.  The  poem 
of  the  Argonauts,  which  is  attributed  to  him.  is.  on  the  auliiority  of  Stobtpus  and 
Suidas,  the  work  of  Onomacritus,  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Pisistratus.  See 
Suidte  Lex.  sub  voce  Orpheus. 

t  A  passage  of  Athenmus  confirms  this  notion.  He  tells  us  that  the  rehears- 
ers of  detached  ballads,  or   'Pa\f.w3oi,  yreie  called  'OurnatoTui — .ith.  Dcip.  \.  xiv 


CH.  ^  lit.]  HOMERIC  POEMS.  2.39 

now  find  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  The  division  of  each  poem  into 
tuenty-foLir  books  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  later  opeiatio  i,  as 
none  of  the  classic  authors  quote  Homer  by  books. 

The  poems  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  were  again  revised  by 
Callisthenes  and  Anaxarchus,  at  the  command  of  Alexander  the 
Great,  who,  it  is  well  known,  held  them  in  the  highest  esteem. 
They  were  finally  revised  by  the  celebrated  grammarian  and  critic, 
Aristarchus,  by  order  of  Ptolemy  Philometor,  and  this  last  cor- 
rected copy  is  supposed  to  be  the  exemplar  of  all  the  subsequent 
editions.  But  the  genuine  merits  of  Homer  are  independent  of  all 
artificial  arrangement.  His  profound  knowledge  of  human  nature 
— his  masterly  skill  in  the  delineation  of  character — his  extensive 
acquaintance  with  the  manners,  the  arts,  and  attainments  of  those 
early  ages — his  command  of  the  passions — his  genius  for  the  sub- 
lime, and  the  melody  of  his  poetical  numbers,  have  deservedly 
established  his  reputation  as  the  greatest  poet  of  antiquity.  It  has 
been  justly  remarked,  that  from  the  poems  of  Homer,  as  from  the 
foumain  of  knowledge,  the  principal  authors  among  the  ancients 
have  derived  useful  information  in  almost  every  department,  moral, 
political  and  scientific* 

Although  the  subjects  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  appear  of  great 
amplitudeand  extent,  the  action  of  both  poems  is,  in  reality,  com- 
prehended within  a  very  short  space  of  time.  The  action  of  the 
Iliad  docs  not  occupy  many  days.  The  indignation  of  Achilles 
upon  the  insult  received  from  Agamemnon,  forms  the  subject  of 
die  poem.  Achilles  retires  to  his  tent  in  deep  resentment.  His 
absence  dispirits  the  Greeks,  and  gives  fresh  courage  to  the  Tro- 
jans, who  gain  some  considerable  advantages,  and  are  occupied  in 
burning  the  Grecian  fleet,  when  Patroclus  comes  forth,  in  the 
armor  of  his  friend  Achilles,  to  stimulate  the  valor  of  his  country- 
men. He  is  slain  by  the  hand  of  Hector;  an  event  which  rouses 
Achilles  from  his  sullen  rei)ose,  who  signally  revenges  the  fate  of 
his  friend  by  the  death  of  the  magnanimous  Hector.  He  then 
celebrates  the  obsequies  of  Patroclus,  and  delivers  up  to  Priam, 
for  a  ransom,  the  body  of  his  brave  son.  This  is  in  brief  the 
whole  action  of  the  Iliad. 

The  structure  of  the  Odyssey,  of  which  the  principal  action  is 
included  in  a  period  of  time  equally  short,  is  more  various  and 
artful  than  that  of  the  Iliad.  Ulysses  had  been  absent  many  years 
from  his  country,  after  the  taking  of  Troy.  His  death  was  sup- 
posed certain;  and  Penelope,  harassed  by  the  importunate  ad- 
dresses of  many  suitors,  could  no  longer  invent  plausible  pretexts 
for  delaying  her  choice  of  a  second  husband.     At  this  crisis,  the 


*  Adjice  Mmonidem  ;  a  quo  ceu  fonte  poronni, 
Valiirn  Pieriis  nra  rifx^nitur  aquis. — Orid. 
And  not  only  thi^  pncts,  l)iit,  as  Lnnijiriiis  informs  us,  the  historians  and  philoK^ 
phers  drew  largely  from  his  copious  source. 


2-40  UNivF.usAt,  iiisTonv.  [nooK  ii 

action  of  tlio  Odyssoy  coniinniccs.  Tc.'lciiiiuliii.s,  tlie  son  of 
Ulysses,  e;ocs  to  Grccco  to  interrogate  Nestor  re^ar(iini5  llie  fnte 
of  his  f;itli(M-;  tiiid  during  his  absence,  Ulysses,  having  l<;ft  the 
island  of  Calypso,  is  thrown  by  a  tempest  on  the  island  of  the 
Phxacians,  in  the  neighboihood  of  Ithaca.  Here  he  recites  his 
various  adventures,  and  obtains  assistance  from  the  j)rince  of  the 
country,  for  the  recovery  of  his  native  possessions,  now  occupied 
and  jiillaged  by  the  insolent  suitors  of  his  cpiecn.  He  arrives  in 
Ithaca,  discovers  himself  to  his  son,  and  takes  joinily  with  liini 
oflectual  measures  to  accomplish  his  revenge,  and  e\lir|)ate  these 
presumptuous  ravagers.  The  whole  action  of  the  poeui  is  com- 
prised in  forty  days.  The  moral  of  the  Iliad  is,  that  dissension 
among  the  chiefs  of  a  country  is  generally  fatal  to  the  people;  and 
that  of  the  Odyssey,  that  prudence  joined  to  courage  and  perse- 
verance are  sufficient  to  surmount  the  most  powerful  obstach's. 

The  authenticity  of  die  historical  facts  recorded  by  Homer  has 
been  much  controverted.  Even  the  war  of  the  Greeks  against 
Troy,  and  its  ultimate  issue  in  the  destruction  of  that  ciiy,  kive 
been  altogether  doubted;  and  there  are  ^Titers,  of  some  name, 
who  deny  that  Troy  was  ever  taken  by  ,be  Greeks — nay,  that 
any  such  city  as  Troy  ever  had  an  existence.  To  this  notion  some 
countenance  is  derived  from  the  circumstance  that  no  vestige  of  a 
city  is  now  to  be  found  in  the  place  of  its  supposed  situation.  But 
the  universal  belief  of  antiquity,  and  constant  reference  of  the  best 
informed  of  the  ancient  writers  to  the  general  events  of  the  Trojan 
war,  and  the  facts  connected  with  that  belief  in  the  authentic 
history  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  seem  to  afford,  at  least,  a 
much  stronger  presumption  of  veracity  to  the  general  opinion  than 
to  its  contrary.  Were  it  to  be  an  established  rule,  that  every  thing 
should  be  retrenched  Xrom  the  annals  of  nations  for  which  we  have 
not  the  most  complete  and  irrefragable  evidence,  tlie  body  of 
ancient  history  would  suffer  indeed  a  great  abridgment. 

As  the  Ionic  was  the  native  dialect  of  Homer,  so  it  is  that  which 
he  has  chiefly  employed,  though  not  exclusively,  availing  himself 
occasionally  of  the  Attic,  the  Doric,  and  the  ^olic,  as  well  as  of 
the  general  license  of  the  poetic.  Hence  that  variety  in  the 
rli}  ihm  and  melody  of  his  composition,  which  never  palls  upon 
die  ear;  and  hence,  likewise,  the  happy  coincidence  of  sound  and 
sense,  which  seems  in  him  to  have  been  less  the  result  of  study 
and  artifice,  than  of  a  musical  ear,  which  instinctively  prompted 
the  most  ajjpropriate  expression,  to  give  the  greatest  possible  effect 
to  the  thought  or  idea  to  be  conveyed. 

Besides  the  great  works  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  the  ludicrous 
poem  of  the  Batrachomyomachia^  or  Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice, 
lias  been  generally  ascribed  to  Homer;  and  likewise  a  pretty  nu- 
merous collection  of  hymns  in  honor  of  Apollo,  Mercury,  "\'enus, 
and  the  other  divinities  of  his  country.  Of  all  these  however, 
the  authenticity  is  questionable;   though  they  have  bee     cited  as 


CH.  VIII. J  HESIOD.  241 

genuine  by  Thucydides,  Lucian,  Pausanias,  and  others  among  the 
ancient  writers,  and  are  in  themselves  of  sufllcient  merit  to  give  no 
discountenance  to  the  common  behef.  The  JMargitcs,  an  un- 
doubted work  of  Homer,  of  a  comic  nature,  of  whicli  no  remnant 
IS  preserved,  is  hkewise  cited  by  Aristotle  and  the  ancient  writers 
as  a  composition  worthy  of  its  author. 

Contemporary  with  Homer,  or  but  a  (aw  years  posterior  to  him, 
was  Hesiod;  a  poet  who  seems  to  be  more  indebted  for  any  share 
of  esteem  which  he  holds  with  the  moderns,  to  his  renioie  anti- 
quity, and  to  the  praises  he  has  received  from  ancient  writers,* 
than  to  any  feeling  of  the  real  merit  of  his  compositions.  Tha^. 
Virgil  highly  esteemed  Hesiod  as  a  poet,  is  evident  from  the  man)' 
mutations  of  the  Greek  author  which  occur  in  the  first  and  second 
books  of  the  Georgics:  nor  is  it,  perhaps,  a  rash  supposition,  that 
Virgil  had  conceived  the  entire  idea  of  his  didactic  poem  on  Agri- 
culture, from  the  JVorks  and  Days  of  Hesiod.  In  two  passages 
of  the  Eclogues,  Virgil  alludes  to  Hesiod  with  encomium: 

et  quis  fuit  alter 


Descripsit  radio  totain  qui  genlibus  orbem, 

Tempora  qiite  messor,  quaj  curvus  arator  haberet  ?  t — Eel.  iii. 

And,  as  the  highest  compliment  to  his  friend  Gallus,  after  intro- 
ducing him  to  Apollo  and  the  Muses,  he  makes  the  Heliconian 
maids  present  him,  by  the  hand  of  Linus,  with  the  same  pipe 
which  they  had  formerly  bestowed  upon  Hesiod,  the  Ascrxan 
old  man. 

hos  tibi  dant  calamos  en  accipe,  mustn 

AscffEO  quns  ante  seni ;  quibus  ille  solebat 

Cantando  rigidas  deducere  inonlibus  ornos.t — Ed.  v\. 

Of  the  authentic  writings  of  Hesiod  two  entire  works  remain; 
the  poem  of  The  JForku  and  Days  and  The  Thco;^ony.  The 
poem  of  the  Works  and  Days,  ^Eoyu  xdi  'frmnai^  consists  of  two 
books:  the  first  commences  with  the  fables  of  Prometheus,  Eni- 
metheus,  and  Pandora,  the  Five  Ages  of  the  World,  the  Golden, 
Silver,  Brazen,  Heroic,  and  Iron  Ages;  the  poet  proceeds  to  give 
an  ample  encomium  on  virtue,  enforced  by  the  consideration  of 
the  temporal  blessings  with  which  its  practice  is  attended,  and  the 
punishment  which  awaits  vice  even  in  this  world;  and  he  thence 
eloquently  enlarges  on  the  chief  moral  duties  essential  to  the  con- 
duct of  life.     In  the  second  book,  the  poet  lays  down  a  series   of 


•  Ilesiodiis— vir  perelegantis  ingenii.  et  mollissima  dulcedine  carminum  morno- 
rabilis. —  Veil.  Paferc.  lib.  i. 

t  "  And  tiie  otlicr— lie  who  first  indicated  the  divisions  of  the  eartli  into  dif- 
ferent nations  and  peoples,  and  taught  the  husbandman  the  seasons  of  harvest 
and  seed-time." 

i  "  Take  it,  then — the  Muses  assign  to  you  this  pipe,  formerly  conferred  by 
tlieni  on  the  Ascriran  sage,  with  which  he  was  wont  to  charm  even  the  obdurate 
elms  from  their  mountains." 

VOL.    I  31 


242  UNivr.usAL  iiisiouv.  [fjook  ii 

precepts  In  agiiculluie,  and  details  the  various  occupations  of  the 
husbaiidiMan  at  the  different  seasons  of  tlie  year;  he  tlicnce 
digresses  to  the  proper  seasons  for  navigation;  lays  down  judicious 
maxims  for  domestic  life  in  the  choice  of  a  wife,  friends,  compan- 
ions, ^c. ;  and  concludes  with  enforcing  the  duties  of  religion,  and 
a  strict  rt'^ard  to  good  morals,  and  a  general  purity  of  conduct. 

'J'he  poem  of  The  Theogomj  contains  a  genealogy  of  the  greater 
and  lesser  deities  and  deified  heroes  of  antiquity;  with  the  my- 
thology or  fabulous  history  connected  with  the  religion  of  ancient 
Greece.  This  poem  is  the  original  source  from  which  all  the 
subscciuent  Greek  and  Roman  mythologists  have  derived  their 
accounts  of  the  birth,  parentage,  and  exploits  of  the  heathen 
divinities,  and  the  details  of  those  fables  which  su])ply  the  p. ace 
of  authentic  history  in  those  ages  properly  termed  the  Heroic. 

About  two  centuries  posterior  to  the  age  of  Homer  and  of 
Hesiod,  flourished  Archilochus,  the  inventor  of  Iambic  verse — a 
poet  whose  depravity  of  morals  brought  on  him  contempt  and  in- 
famy during  life;  but  whose  works,  after  his  death,  divided,  as  we 
are  told,  the  public  estimation  with  those  of  Homer.  Yet  as  these 
works  were  of  the  lyric  kind,  it  is  not  possible  they  could  admit  of 
a  degree  of  merit  which  could  at  all  stand  in  competition  with 
those  noble  pictures  of  life  and  manners  which  are  delineated  by 
that  prince  of  poets.  Some  fragments  of  Archilochus  are  pre- 
served by  AdienjEus,  lib.  xiv.;  by  Pausanias,  lib.  x.;  and  by 
Stoba?us,  serm.  12.3.  ContemjDorary  with  Archilochus  was  Ter- 
oander,  a  native  of  Lesbos,  who  is  celebrated  no  less  for  his  lyrical 
compositions,  than  for  his  exquisite  talents  as  a  musician.  Of  his 
verses  we  have  no  remains.*  The  two  succeeding  centuries  were 
distinguished  by  nine  lyric  poets  of  great  celebrity:  Alcman  and 
Stersichorus,  of  whom  we  have  a  few  imperfect  remains  preserved 
by  Athenacus,  Stobajus,  &.c.;  Sappho,  of  whom  we  have  two 
beautiful  odes;  Alcieus,  Simonides,  Ibycus,  and  Bacchylides,  of 
whom  there  remain  considerable  fragments  in  a  mutilated  state; 
and  Pindar  and  Aiiacreon,  of  whom  so  much  is  preserved  as  to 
enable  us  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  their  merits. 

Pindar,  in  the  judgment  of  the  ancients,  was  esteemed  the  chief 
of  all  the  lyric  poets.  We  have  of  his  composition  four  books  of 
odes,  or  triumphal  eulogies  of  the  victors  in  the  01ymj)ic,  Pythian, 
Nema^an,  and  Isthmian  Games  of  Greece.  It  required  a  great 
power  of  poetical  imagination  to  give  variety  and  interest  to  a 
theme  of  so  limited  a  nature,  through  a  succession  of  no  less  than 
forty-five  panegyrics;  and  without  doubt  the  poet  has  displayed 
unbounded  imagination,  and  the  most  excursive  fancy.     It  is,  how- 


*  Plutarch  infdrms  us  that  Terpander  was  the  invontor  of  those  melodies  or 
musical  strains  in  which  it  was  customary  to  recite  the  poetical  compositions  in 
the  public  games  or  contests  for  the  palm  of  poetry  ;  and  that  in  particular  be 
■ung  to  strains  of  his  own  composition  the  poems  of  Homer,  as  well  as  his  ovn. 


CII     VIII."]  GREEK    LYRIC     POETRY- —GREEK     DRAMA.  243 

ever,  to  be  suspected  that  the  high  admiration  expressed  hv  anv 
modern  for  the  compositions  of  Pindar,  has  either  in  it  a  consider- 
able tincture  of  affectation,  or  is  the  result  of  a  blind  assent  to  the 
opinion  of  Horace,  and  others  of  the  ancient  writers,  who  have 
extolled  the  Theban  bard  as  beyond  all  reach  of  competition,  or 
even  imitation.  The  sober  critics  of  antiquity,  in  judging  of  his 
merits,  have  not  shown  the  same  indiscriminating  enthusiasm. 
Longinus  confesses  that  Pindar,  with  all  his  sublimity,  is  apt  to 
sink  below  mediocrity,  and  diat  his  fire  is  sometimes  altogether 
extinguished  when  we  least  expect  it:  and  Aulus  Gellius  gives  it 
as  the  general  opinion,  that  the  poetry  of  Pindar  is  florid  and 
turgid  to  excess.*  Yet  we  can  discern  in  him  many  striking 
figures,  great  energy  of  expression,  and  often  the  most  harmonious 
numbers. 

Anacreon  is  a  great  contrast  to  Pindar.  His  fancy,  which  has 
no  great  range,  is  employed  only  in  suggesting  familiar  and  luxu- 
rious pictures.  He  has  no  comprehension  of  the  sublime  of  poetry, 
and  little  of  the  tender,  delicate  or  ingenious  in  sentiment.  He  is 
a  professed  voluptuary,  of  loose  and  abandoned  princij)les;  and 
his  compositions,  though  easy,  graceful,  and  harmonious,  are  too 
inunoral  to  find  favor  with  the  friends  of  virtue. 

Of  tlic  Greek  lyric  poetry,  if  the  epigram  may  be  classed  under 
that  denomination,  the  collection  called  ,'lnthologia  has  preserved 
a  great  many  very  beautiful  specimens.  AVith  a  few  exceptions, 
they  are  free  from  that  coarseness  and  obscenity  which  disgrace 
the  compositions  of  the  Roman  epigrammatists,  particularly  Mar- 
tial and  Catullus.  The  Anthologia  was  compiled  by  a  monk  of 
the  fourteenth  century;  but  it  consists  almost  entirely  of  ancient 
productions,  and  is  altogether  a  valuable  monument  of  the  Greek 
literature  and  taste.  The  best  of  the  modern  epigrams  may  be 
traced  up  to  that  source,  and  the  English  and  French  jioets  have 
frequently  plundered  the  Anthologia  without  the  least  acknow- 
ledgment.! 

Considering  the  Anthologia  as  affording  the  best  examples  of 
this  species  of  coini)osilion,  we  may  thence  observe  that  the  an- 
cients did  not  altogether  annex  the  same  meaning  that  we  do  to 
the  term  epigram;  which  we  consider  as  always  displaying  a 
point  or  witticism,  consisting  of  a  single  thought,  briefly  and  bril- 
liantly expressed.  The  ancients  required  likewise  brevity  and 
unity  of  thought,  but  they  did  not  consider  point  or  witticism  as 
essential  to  epigram.     Martial  and  Catullus  are  frequently  witty: 


•  Noct.  Alt,  1.  xvii.  c.  10. 

t  II  is  no  incon8ide»al)le  testimony  to  the  merits  of  the  Greek  epigram,  that 
the  ffreat  moralist,  Dr.  Samuol  Jolinson,  sought  a  relJef  from  the  pains  attf>n(l- 
anl  on  liis  di-ath-hed,  in  translatinij  into  Enijlish  and  Latin  vers^  -v\ne  of  th« 
'HJsl  epigrams  of  tii«  Anthologia. 


244  UMVERSAI,    HISTORY.  [bOOK  II 

but  ilin  principal  characteristic  of  tlio  Greek  epigram  is  ingenuity 
and  simplioitv,  or  what  the  French  term  na'irele. 

The  era  of  clramaiic  composition  amone;  the  Greeks  is  supposed 
to  have  commenced  about  590  b.  c*  Thcspis,  who  is  said  to 
have  been  the  inventor  of  tragedy, f  was  contemporary  with  Solon; 
and  if  the  drama  originated  with  the  Athenians,  it  is  equally  cer- 
tain that  they  brought  it  to  a  very  high  pitch  of  perfection.  The 
Greek  comedy  has  been  divided  into  three  distinct  classes,  the 
old,  the  middle,  and  the  neic.  Of  the  old  comedy,  which  is  noted 
for  the  extreme  freedom  and  severity  of  its  satire,  the  principal 
dramatists  were  Eupolis,  Cratinus,  and  Aristophanes. 

Eupolis  atque  Cratinus,  Aristophanesque  poetse 
Alque  alii  quorum  Coincrdia  prisca  viroruin  est, 
Siquis  erat  dignus  describi,  quod  nialu-:  ac  fur, 
Quod  mcEchus  foret.  aut  sicarius,  aut  alioqui 
Famo3U3,t  multa  cum  liberlate  notabanl. 

Ilur.  Sat.  lib.  i.  sat.  4. 

.\nd  it  had  been  well  if  their  satire  had  been  confined  to  the  vicious 
alone  and  notoriously  profligate.  We  might  excuse,  when  such 
were  the  sole  objects  of  castigation,  even  the  unbridled  license 
with  which  they  wielded  the  iron  scourge  of  sarcasm.  Unfortu- 
nately their  censure  was  not  so  discriminating,  as  appears  by  the 
dramas  of  Aristophanes,  yet  preserved  entire. 

If  it  be  true,  that  under  the  administration  of  Pericles  at  Athens, 
all  compositions  for  the  stage  were  submitted  to  the  review  of 
certain  judges,  whose  approbation  it  was  necessary  to  obtain  be- 
fore they  were  allowed  to  be  performed,  it  is  not  easy  to  account 
for  those  gross  immoralities  and  violations  of  common  decency 
which  are  to  be  found  in  the  comedies  of  Aristophanes.  Of  this 
author's  composition,  we  have  eleven  dramatic  pieces,  which,  it 


•  Aristotle  considers  Homer  as  the  founder  of  the  drama  among  the  Greeks 
—not  as  having  himself  written  any  composition  strictly  of  a  dramatic  nature, 
oat  as  having  led  the  way  to  it,  by  his  lively  represcnlaiions  of  life  and  man- 
ners, both  in  the  more  serious  and  graver  aspects  and  in  the  comic;  his  Iliad 
and  Odyssey  bearing  the  same  relation  to  tragedy,  that  his  MargUes  does  to 
•:omedy. — Arist.  de  Poet.  c.  4. 

t  Mr.  Harris  thus  plausibly  accounts  for  the  priority  of  tragedy  to  comedy 
in  the  poetry  of  all  nations  :  "  It  appears,  that  not  only  in  Greece,  but  in  other 
countries  more  barbarous,  the  first  writings  were  in  metre,  and  of  an  epic  cast, 
recording  wars,  battles,  heroes,  ghosts;  the  marvellous  always,  and  often  the 
incredible.  Men  seemed  to  have  thought  the  higher  they  soared,  the  more  im- 
portant they  should  appear ;  and  that  the  common  life  which  they  then  lived 
was  a  thing  too  contemptible  to  merit  imitation.  Hence  it  followed,  that 
it  was  not  till  this  common  life  was  rendered  respectable  by  more  refined  and 
polished  manners,  that  men  thought  it  mijht  be  copied,  so  as  to  gain  them  ap- 
plause. Even  in  Greece  itself,  tragedy  had  attained  its  maturity  many  years 
before  comedv.as  may  be  seen  by  comparing  the  age  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides, 
with  that  of  Philemon  and  Menander." 

t  "  Eupolis,  Cratinus,  Aristophanes,  and  other  old  writers  of  comedy,  used 
•inbounded  license  in  exposing  the  knave,  the  thief,  the  adulterer,  the  assassin 
or  anv  infamous  character  whomsoever." 


CH.    VIII. J  GREEK    COMEDY.  245 

must  be  owned,  do  not  give  a  favorable  opinion  of  the  taste  of  the 
Athenians  at  tliis  period  of  their  highest  national  splendor.  It  is 
true,  that  we  discern  exquisite  knowledge  of  human  nature  in 
those  dramas,  and  that  they  have  higli  value,  as  throwing  light  on 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Athenians,  and  even  on  their 
political  constitution.  But  there  are  coarseness  of  sentiment  and 
ribaldry  of  expression  in  the  comedies  of  Aristophanes,  which  to 
modern  taste  and  manners  appear  extremely  disgusting.  We 
must  presume,  that  even  in  the  days  of  the  author,  such  perform- 
ances could  have  been  relished  only  by  the  very  dregs  of  the 
populace  ;  and  that  what  chiefly  recommended  them  to  these,  was 
the  malicious  sarcasm  and  abuse  which  was  thrown  upon  their 
superiors,  often  the  best  and  worthiest  members  of  the  common- 
wealth. 

To  the  old  comedy — of  which  the  extreme  license  and  scurrility 
became  at  length  disgusting,  as  the  manners  of  the  Athenians  be- 
came more  refined — succeeded  the  middle  comedy,  which,  retain- 
ing the  sjjirit  of  the  old,  and  its  vigorous  delineation  of  manners 
auti  character,  banished  from  the  drama  all  personal  satire  or  abuse 
of  living  characters  by  name.  The  writers  of  this  class  were 
numerous,  and  we  have  several  fragments  remaining  of  their  com- 
positions, but  no  entire  pieces.  Of  these  fragments,  Mr.  Cumber- 
land has  published  some  valuable  specimens,  admirably  translated, 
in  the  sixth  volume  of  The  Ob  erver.  Of  these  specimens,  the 
passages  taken  from  the  comedies  of  Alexis,  Antiphanes,  Epicrates, 
Mnesimachus,  Phoenicides,  and  Timocles,  will  give  pleasure  to 
every  reader  of  taste. 

Last  came  the  new  comedy  of  the  Greeks,  including  in  point  of 
time  a  period  of  about  thirty  years — from  the  death  of  Alexander 
the  Great,  to  the  death  of  Menander,  the  last  and,  perhaps,  the 
greatest  ornament  of  the  Grecian  drama.  In  this  short  period, 
the  Athenian  stage  was  truly  a  school  of  morals;  and  while  com- 
edy lost  none  of  her  characteristic  excellence  in  the  just  delineation 
of  manners,  sin;  had  the  additional  graces  of  tenderness,  elegance, 
and  decorum.  Of  this  brilliant  era,  the  chief  dramatic  writers 
were  iMcnander,  Philemon,  Diphilus,  ApoUodorus,  Philippides,  and 
Posidippus. 

In  the  comedies  of  Menander  was  found  a  vein  of  the  most 
refined  wit  and  pleasantry,  which  never  transgressed  the  bounds 
of  decency  and  strict  morality.  I  lis  object  was  at  once  the  exem- 
plary display  of  the  charms  of  virtue,  and  the  chastisement  of  vice  ; 
and  en)i)loying,  alternately,  the  grave  and  the  jocose,  attempering 
moral  example  with  keen  but  elegant  satire,  he  exhibited  the 
most  instructive  as  well  as  the  justest  representations  of  human 
nature.     Quintilian  and  Plutarch  *  have  deservedly  enlarged  on  the 


*  Quint.  1.  X.  c.  i.,  and  riiilarcli.  Comp.  Aristoph.  and  Menand. 


246  UNIVF.nSAI,    IIIS70KY.  [book.   II 

Mieiiis  of  this  cxcclloiit  (li;iiii;iilf;  poet,  expressing  ilieir  opinion, 
lliai  lie  lias  e(li])sed  ilie  rcpdtalioii  of  all  ihe  other  writers  in  the 
same  dcparlinciit  anionic  the  ancients.  By  the  former  of  these 
authors,  the  plays  of  Menander  ar(!  rccominended,  as  a  school  of 
elo(]uencc  for  the  Ibrnjalion  of  a  perfect  orater;  so  admirahle  is  the 
skill  of  the  poet,  in  |)ainting  the  manners  and  passions  in  every 
condition  and  circumstance  of  life.  The  eulogium  of  Menander, 
by  Quintiiian,  might,  in  modern  times,  be  held  as  no  exaggerated 
character  of  our  immortal  Sliakspeare.  How  much  is  it  to  be 
regretted,  that  of  all  the  works  of  this  great  master  of  the  ancient 
drama,  of  which  there  were  near  one  hundred  comedies,  there 
should,  unfortunately,  remain  nothing  more  than  a  few  detached 
passages  preserved  by  Athenaius,  Plutarch,  Slobseus,  and  Eusta- 
ihius!  Yet  even  these  justify  the  high  character  which  the  an- 
cient critics  have  given  of  this  poet;  and  we  have  yet  a  completer 
and  more  ample  proof  of  his  merits  in  the  comedies  of  Terence, 
which  are  now  universally  considered  as  little  else  than  versions 
from  Menander.* 

Next  in  merit  to  Menander,  and  not  inferior  to  him  in  fertility 
of  genius,  was  Philemon,  who  is  recorded  to  have  written  no 
less  than  ninety  comedies.  Of  his  remains,  the  few  fragments 
preserved  by  Athenaeus  and  Stobseus  do  not  derogate  from  the 
character  given  of  him  by  Quintiiian  and  the  ancient  critics,  as 
second,  at  least,  in  dramatical  talents  to  the  prince  of  the  comic 
itage.  In  the  same  scale  of  merit  stood  Diphilus,  of  whom  Cle- 
mens Alexandrinus  and  Eusebius  give  a  high  character  in  point  of 
morals  as  well  as  comic  humor.  Of  his  works,  as  well  as  those 
of  his  rivals,  Apollodorus,  Philippides,  and  Posibippus,  there  re- 
main a  few  fragments. 

Time  has  happily  spared  to  us  more  considerable  remains  of 
the  tragic  muse  of  the  Greeks  than  of  the  comic,  and  fortunately 
those  pieces  which  have  been  preserved,  are  the  production  of 
the  three  great  ornaments  of  the  drama,  jEschylus,  Sophocles, 
and  Euripides.  Among  the  celebrated  tragic  poets,  .^Eschylus 
ranks  first  in  priority  of  time.  Seventy  years  had  only  elapsed 
since  the  days  of  Thespis,  when  the  Greek  drama  had  no  other 
stage  for  its  exhibition  than  a  wagon.  The  improvement  that 
took  place  from  that  period,  to  the  time  when  ^schylus  produced 
those  pieces  which  were  crowned  at  the  Olympic  games,  must 
bave  been  great  indeed.  This  autlutr  is  said  to  have  written 
sixty-six  tragedies,  for  thirteen  of  which  he  gained  the  first  prize  in 
that  department  of  poetry.  The  tragedies  of  iEschylus  abound 
.n  strokes  of  the  true  sublime ;  but  his  genius,  not  always  regulated 


*  Mr.  Cunibprland,  in  the  Observer,  No.  140.  lias  translated  some  of  the 
fragments  of  Menander  with  great  spirit  and  suHlcient  fidelity,  as  also  one  of 
Diphilus. 


CH.  VIII. J  EURIPIDES SOPHOCLES.  447 

by  good  taste,  frequently  betrays  him  into  the  bombast:  SuoUmU 
— g;ravis — et  grandiloquus  usque  ad  vitium^  says  Qiiintilian.  He 
studied  not  in  his  compositions  that  res^ularity  of  plan,  and  strict 
observance  of  the  unities,  wiiich  the  works  of  the  succeeding  poets 
seem  to  have  rendered  essential  to  the  Greek  drama;  but  to  this 
very  circumstance  we  are  indebted  for  the  wild  and  romantic 
nature  of  his  plots,  and  that  terrible  grandeur  with  which  his 
characters  are  sometimes  delineated.  The  high  esteem  which 
Aristophanes  had  for  the  talents  of  jEscliylus,  is  demonstrated  by 
tnat  dispute  which  in  his  comedy  entitled  ''  The  Frogs,"  he  feigns 
to  have  taken  place  in  the  infernal  regions  between  Euripides  and 
^schylns  foi-  the  tragic  chair.  Bacchus,  the  judge  of  the  contro- 
versy, gives  a  direct  decision  in  favor  of  ^schylus;  and  Sopho- 
cles acquiesces  in  the  judgment,  and  declares  that  though  he  him- 
self is  ready  to  contest  the  palm  with  Euripides,  he  yields  it 
willinglv  to  -'Eschylus. 

Euripides  and  Sophocles  were  about  fifty  years  posterior  in 
time  to  >35schylus;  though  both  of  them  had  begun  their  dramatic 
career  in  his  lifetime.  The  judgment  of  the  critics,  both  of  ancient 
and  of  modern  times,  is  almost  equally  balanced  between  these 
great  masters  of  the  drama.  Quiutilian  leaves  the  question  unde- 
cided with  respect  to  their  poetical  merits;  but  prefers  Euripides, 
as  afibrding  a  better  practical  model  of  oratory,  as  well  as  on  the 
score  of  his  admirable,  prudential,  and  moral  lessons.  Euripides 
is  a  great  master  of  the  passions,  and  with  high  skill  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  grander  emotions  of  terror,  rage,  and  madness,  is  yet 
more  excellent  in  exciting  the  tender  affections  of  grief  and  pity. 
In  the  judgment  of  Longinus,  this  poet  had  not  a  natural  genius 
for  the  sublime;  though  the  critic  acknowleges  that  he  is  capa 
ble  at  times,  when  the  subject  demands  it,  of  working  himself  up 
to  a  very  high  elevation,  both  of  thought  and  expression.  This 
criticism  is  certainly  fastidious  in  no  small  degree.  If  a  poet  has  it 
in  his  power  to  rise  to  the  sublime  when  his  subject  demands  it, 
what  better  proof  can  we  have  of  a  natural  genius  for  the  sublime.^ 
But  how  absurd  to  deny  that  the  JMeclea  is  the  work  of  a  tran- 
scendent native  genius  for  the  sublime!  As  a  moralist,  Euripides 
ranks  j)erliaps  the  highest  among  the  ancient  poets.  He  was  the 
only  dramatic  writer  of  whom  Socrates  deigned  to  attend  the 
representations.  The  singular  esteem  in  which  Cicero  held  him 
as  a  moral  writer,  he  ,has  stongly  expressed  in  one  of  his  letters 
to  Tiro,*  and  it  is  a  remarkable  anecdote,  that  Cicero,  in  the  last 
moments  of  his  life,  when  assassinated  in  his  litter,  was  occui)ied 
in  reading  the  Medea.  It  is  well  known,  that  that  great  and  good 
man  expected  his  fate;  and  we  must  thence  conclude  that  ho 
thought  no  preparation  for  death  more  suitable  than  the  excellent 


*  Cic.  Tp.  ad  Fam.  lib.  xvi.  cp.  3. 


£48  UMVF.USAI.    JIl.^TOIlV.  [uOOK   II 

moral  reHefiions  of  his  favorite  poet.  Of  seventy-five  tragedies 
written  by  Euripides,  tlicre  remain  to  us  nineteen,  and  the  frag- 
ment of  a  tueniielh.  Qiiiiitilian  justly  gives  it  as  a  decisive  proof 
of  the  high  merit  of  this  great  dramaiist,  that  Menandcr  admired, 
and  followed  him  as  his  model,  though  in  a  different  species  of  the 
drama.* 

Contemporary  witli  Euripides  was  iiis  great  rival,  Sophocles, 
who,  in  the  judgment  both  of  the  ancient  and  modern  critics, 
shares  equally  with  the  former  the  chief  honors  of  the  tragic  muse. 
As  the  principal  excellence  of  Euripides  is  judged  to  lie  in  the  ex 
pression  of  the  tender  passions,  so  the  genius  of  Sopliocles  has  been 
thought  more  adapted  to  the  grand,  the  terrible,  and  the  sublime. 
Yet  the  latter  has  occasionally  shown  himself  a  great  master  in  the 
pathetic.  I  know  not  that  either  the  ancient  or  the  modern 
drama  can  produce  a  passage  more  powerfully  affecting,  than  the 
speech  of  Electra  on  receiving  the  urn  which  she  is  told  contains 
the  ashes  of  her  brother  Orestes: 

Si  (ptXtdTs  fivT]/neiov  dv\)'g(in(DV  Ijiol,  &.c. 

Soph.  Elect.,  Act  \v. 

We  perceive  in  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  great  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart,  together  with  a  simplicity  and  chastity  of  expression 
in  the  general  language  of  the  characters,  which  greatly  heightens 
his  occasional  strokes  of  the  sublime.  Of  all  the  productions  of 
the  Greek  stage  which  time  has  spared  to  us,  that  which  is 
generally  esteemed  the  most  perfect  is  the  GEdipus  of  Sopho- 
cles. There  could  not,  perhaps,  be  devised  a  dramatic  fable 
more  perfectly  suited  to  the  excitement  both  of  terror  and  pity 
than  that  of  the  unfortunate  CEdipus;  yet  it  is  defective  in  one 
srreat  point,  which  is  a  moral.  There  is  no  useful  truth  inculcated 
by  the  spectacle  of  a  man  reduced  to  the  utmost  pitch  of  human 
misery,  and  marked  out  as  an  object  of  the  indignation  and  ven- 
geance of  the  gods,  for  actions  in  which  it  is  not  possible  to  accuse 
hmi  of  crnniiiality.  I  have  formerly  taken  notice  of  this  strange 
paradox  in  the  ideas  of  the  ancients  with  respect  to  morality,  f  and 
I  will  not  repeat  the  observation. 

The  manner  in  which  the  dramatic  compositions  of  the  Greeks 
were  performed  has  afforded  much  matter  for  learned  inquiry,  and 
given  room  to  considerable  diversity  of  opinion.  It  is  well  known 
Uiat  the  ancient  actors,  both  in  the  Greek*  and  Roman  theatres, 
wore  masks  suited  to  the  characters  they  represented,  of  which 
the  enlarged  and  distended  featui'es  were  calculated  to  be  seen  at 
a  great  distance;  and  the  mouth  was  so  constructed  as  to  increase 


*  Hiinc  et  adiniratns  maxime  est,  ut  sfppe  testatur,  et  seculus  quamfiuam  in 
opere  diversn,  Menander.     Just.  Or.  1.  x.  c.  1. 
t  Supra,  book  i.,  ch.  8. 


CH     VIII.  I  GREEK    TRAGEDY  349 

ilie  sound  of  the  voice  like  a  speaking-trumpet.  The  tragic  dec- 
lamation was  loud,  sonorous,  and  inflated,  while  the  tone  of  the 
comic  actors  was  nearer  to  the  manner  of  ordinary  discourse.  The 
ancient  tragedy  may  indeed  be  described,  not  as  an  imitation  of 
nature,  but  as  aliogethi,'r  an  artificial  composition,  intended  to 
produce  a  grand  and  imposing  efiect  by  the  united  power  of  music, 
dancing,  strong  and  expressive  gesticulation,  and  pompous  decla- 
mation; the  whole  introduced  through  the  medium  of  some  inter- 
esting, but  simple  story,  fitted  by  its  nature  to  excite  powerfully 
the  emotions  of  terror  and  of  pity.  The  ancient  comedy,  with 
the  accompaniments  of  music  and  dancing,  was  an  imitation  of 
ordinary  life,  intended  to  inculcate  good  morals  by  just  delineations 
of  the  laudable  or  faulty  characters  of  mankind,  as  the  more  seri- 
ous dramas  of  Menander  and  Terence;  or  to  chastise  vice  by  the 
ruder  methods  of  satire,  burlesque,  and  invective,  as  the  comedies 
of  Aristophanes  and  Plautus. 

As  the  tragic  and  comic  dramas  were  thus  diflerent  in  their 
nature,  they  were  usually  performed  by  different  classes  of  actors.* 
Quintilian  tells  us  that  i^^.sopus  declaimed  much  more  gravely 
than  Roscius,  because  the  former  was  accustomed  to  act  tragedy, 
and  the  latter  comedy. f  The  dresses  and  decorations  in  the  two 
species  of  drama  were  likewise  altogether  diflerent.  Tlie  tragic 
actor  used  the  cothurnus,  or  high-soled  buskin,  which  increased 
his  height  some  inches,  and  also  a  stuffed  dress  to  give  a  propor- 
tional size  and  breadth  to  the  figure.^  The  comic  actor  trod  the 
stage  with  the  soccus,  or  low-heeled  slipper,  and  an  ordinary  garb 
suited  to  the  character  in  real  life.  It  was  dierefore  corresponding 
to  Uieir  figures  that  the  former  declaimed  in  a  loud  and  solemn 
tone,  or  mouthed  his  part,  while  the  latter  s])oke  in  a  natural  tone 
and  manner:  Comccdus  sermocinatur,  says  Apuleius,  Tragcedus 
vociferatur. 

There  are  some  circumstances  regarding  the  exhibition  of  the 
ancient  drama,  on  which  the  modern  critics  are  not  agreed.  There 
IS  good  reason  to  believe  that  both  the  comedy  and  tragedy  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  were  set  to  music,  and  the  greater  part,  if 
not  the  whole,  sung  by  the  actors,  or  sjjoken  in  musical  intonation. 


*  Plato,  3  Dial,  de  Rcpubl. 

f  Roscius  citatior,  i^.sopus  gravior  full;  quod  illc  coinocdias,  hie  tragoRdiai 
cgil. — Just.  <  *r.,  lib.  xi.,  c.  '.i. 

t  Lucian  tivcs  a  most  ludicrous  picture  of  tlip  costume  of  llie  tragic  actors  and 
their  tur<rid  irinnncr  of  performance,  in  his  dialocrue  on  sta£rt>  daucini;. —  Tlr(ji 
On/ijOK:'f.  '•  Wlial  mort'  absurd  and  ridiculous  spectacle  can  there  l)e,  tliau  to 
iee  a  man  nrtfullv  drawing  out  his  fiiruro  to  a  most  unnatural  length,  stalkiiiij  in 
upon  hiirli  shoes,  his  liead  covered  with  a  li-arful  masque,  wilh  a  moulli  ijapitig 
wide,  as  if  he  was  about  to  devour  the  spe<'tators  ;  not  to  mention  his  slulVrd  lirlly 
and  chest, extended  to  i^ive  the  htwr  ficrnre  a  proportional  size  ;  then  his  lu'lluwing 
and  rantiui!;,  :,ojiietimes  l)histerinir  and  thuinpiiig,  then  singing  iambics,  or  music- 
ally whining  (jut  the  most  grievous  calamities.'" 

VOL.  I  32 


i!50  UNivKFisAi.   HISTORY.  [book  II 

like  the  recitative  of  tlie  modern  Italian  operas  Not  to  mention 
the  etyinoio2;y  of  the  words  xoiiiuiiiiu  and  nxiyotDin^  plainly  denoting 
the  composition  to  be  of  the  nature  of  song,  there  are  many  pas- 
sages of  ilic  ancient  authors  which  countenance  the  foregoing 
opinion.* 

The  ancient  actors  used  in  their  performance  a  great  deal  of 
gesticulation,  which  was  requisite,  from  the  immense  size  of  their 
theatres,  in  order  to  suj)ply  the  defect  of  the  voice,  which,  even 
with  the  contrivance  before  mentioned  to  increase  its  sound,  was 
still  too  weak  to  be  distinctly  heard  over  so  large  a  space.  A 
violent  and  strongly  marked  gesticulation  was,  therefore,  in  some 
degree,  necessary;  and  this  led  to  a  very  entraordinary  praciice 
in  the  latter  period  of  the  Roman  theatre:  namely,  that  there 
were  two  persons  employed  in  the  representation  of  one  character. 
Livy,  the  historian,  relates  the  particular  incident  which  gave  rise  to 
this  practice.  The  poet  Livius  Andronicus,  in  acting  upon  the 
stage  in  one  of  his  own  plays,  was  called  by  the  plaudits  of  the 
audience  to  repeat  some  favorite  passages  so  frequently,  that  his 
voice  became  inaudible  through  hoarseness,  and  he  requested  that 
a  boy  might  be  allowed  to  stand  in  front  of  the  musicians,  and 
recite  the  part,  while  he  himself  performed  the  consonant  gesticu- 
lation. It  was  remarked,  says  the  historian,  that  his  action  was 
much  more  free  and  forcible,  from  being  relieved  of  the  labor  of 
utterance;  and  hence  it  became  customary,  adds  Livy,  to  allow 
this  practice  in  monologues,  or  soliloquies,  and  to  require  both 
voice  and  gesture  from  the  same  actor  only  in  the  colloquial  parts. 
We  have  it  on  the  authority  of  Lucian,  that  the  same  practice 
came  to  be  introduced  upon  the  Greek  stage.  Formerly,  says 
that  author,  the  same  actors  both  recited  and  gesticulated  ;  but  as 
it  was  observed  that  the  continual  motion,  by  afibcting  the  breath- 
ing of  the  actor,  was  an  impediment  to  distinct  recitation,  it  was 
judged  better  to  make  one  actor  recite  and  another  gesticulate. 
For  farther  information  on  this  matter  I  refer  to  a  very  ingenious 
and  ample  disquisition  by  the  Abbe  Du  Bos  in  his  Reflections 
Critiques  siir  la  Po'csie  et  siir  la  Pcinture.     Tom.  i.  sect.  42. 

In  treating  of  the  Greek  drama,  it  would  be  an  omission  not  to 
mention  a  species  of  dramatic  composition — cf  a  nature  very  much 
inferior  to  the  proper  tragedy  and  comedy  of  the  ancients;  but 
which,  at  length,  in  the  corruption  of  taste,  became  greatly  in 
fashion  both  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  seems,  indeed, 
to    have   been   carried  to   as   high  a  degree  of  perfection   as   the 


*  Suetonius,  in  speaking  of  the  Emperor  Nero,  who  piqued  himself  on  his 
talents  as  a  player,  and  used  frequently  to  exhibit  on  the  stage,  says,  "  Tragft- 
dias  ijuoi/iic  caiitarit  firrsomUiis.  Inter  catcra  cantuTit  Canarcn  partttricntem 
(n  strange  part  for  his  imperial  majesty  to  perform !)  Orestrvi  matricidam, 
Oedipodrm  cjracatum.  Ihrcidcm  insaiiiim."  Some  of  these  characters,  il  must 
be  allowed,  were  sullicienlly  consonant  to  their  actor. 


ril.    Vlll.]  THE    GREEK    THEATRE.  25. 

nature  of  the  composition  would  admit  of.  What  I  speak  of  15 
the  mimes  and  pantomimes.  The  etymology  of  the  words  shows 
that  this  species  of  entertainment  was  considered  as  a  sort  of 
mimicry  or  ludicrous  imitation.  Tlie  mimes  originally  made  a 
part  of  the  ancient  comedy,  and  the  mimic  actors  played  or  exhib- 
ited grotesque  dances  between  the  acts  of  the  comedy.  As  this 
entertainment  was  highly  relished,  the  mimes  began  to  rest  on 
their  own  n}erits,  and  setting  themselves  up  in  opposition  to  the 
comedians,  delighted  the  vulgar  by  making  burlesque  parodies  on 
the  more  regular  representations  of  the  stage.  Some  of  these 
pieces  were  i)ubH3he(l,  and  were  of  such  merit  as  humorous  com- 
posilions,  that  the  philosopher  Plato  did  not  disdain  to  confess  his 
adnn'ration  of  them. 

The  pantomimes  differed  from  the  mimes  in  this  respect,  that 
they  consisted  solely  of  gesticulation,  and  seem  to  have  been 
very  nearly  of  the  same  character  with  our  modern  pantomimes. 
What  is  termed  in  France  the  Italian  comedy,  seems,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  hold  a  very  strict  affinity  with  the  ancient  mimes. 
Both  the  one  and  the  other,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  name, 
wei'e  of  Greek  origin  ;  but  they  were  introduced  into  Rome  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  commonwealth — and,  as  the  spectacle  was 
greatly  relished,  the  art  was  proportionally  cultivated  and  improved. 
The  performances  became  gradually  more  refined  and  chaste  ;  and 
that  which  was  at  first  little  better  than  low  buffoonery,  began  at 
last  to  aspire  at  the  merits  of  the  higher  drama,  tragedy  and  com- 
edy. The  tragedy  of  (Edipus  was  in  the  reign  of  Augustus 
performed  at  Rome  by  the  pantomimes  in  dumb  show,  and  that 
so  admirably  as  to  draw  tears  from  the  whole  spectators.  The 
chief  actors  in  this  department  were  Pylades  and  Bathyllus  ;  and 
the  contentions  excited  by  the  partisans  of  these  mimics  arose  at 
lengdi  to  such  a  pitch,  that  Augustus  thought  proper  to  admonish 
Pylades  in  private,  and  caution  him  to  live  on  good  terms  with  his 
rival,  for  the  sake  of  the  public  peace.  Pylades  contented  himself 
with  re|ilving,  that  it  was  for  the  emperor's  best  interest,  that  the 
public  should  find  nothing  mow  material  to  engross  their  thoughts 
than  him  and  Bathyllus.  The  chief  merit  of  Pylades,  as  Athe- 
naeus  informs  us,  lay  in  the  comic  pantomime,  and  that  of  Bathyllus 
in  the  tragic.  But  however  great  the  perfection  to  which  these 
performances  were  carried  by  the  ancients,  they  were  always  re- 
garded as  a  spurious  species  of  the  drama,  indicating  the  corrup- 
tion of  a  more  liberal  art.* 

The  genius  of  the  Greeks  was  in  no  department  of  literary  com 


*  Luoian  is  a  warm  apologist  of  tlio  art  of  pantoniinio  in  his  dialogue  TTtQi 
O^Xijnim:.  And  his  contemporary,  Apulcius,  has  given,  in  his  florid  style  of 
\vrilin(r,  an  amusing  account  of  an  ancient  pantomime  en  the  subject  of  tlie 
Judgment  nf  Paris.  Mctaniorph.  1.  x. 


252  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY  [UOOK   II 

position  more  distinguished  than  in  Iiistory.  In  attending  to  the 
progress  of  tlie  arts  and  sciences,  it  has  been  generally  remarked 
that  there  are  particular  ages  in  which  the  human  mind  seems  to 
take  a  strong  bent  or  direction  to  one  class  of  pursuits  in  preference 
to  all  others.  Emulation  may  in  a  great  measure  account  for 
this:  for  when  one  artist  or  one  learned  man  becomes  confessedly 
eminent,  others  are  excited  by  a  natural  bias  to  the  same  studies 
and  pursuits  in  which  he  has  attained  reputation.  In  treating  of 
the  fine  arts  among  the  Greeks,  we  remarked  that  extiaordinary 
constellation  of  eminent  artists  which  adorned  the  age  of  Pericles. 
We  shall  observe  a  similar  phenomenon  in  the  age  of  Leo  the 
Tenth.  In  like  manner  we  find  tiie  ablest  of  the  Greek  historians 
all  nearly  contemporary  with  each  other.  Herodotus,  the  most 
ancient  of  the  Greek  historians  of  merit,  died  413  years  before  the 
Christian  era;  Thucydides  391  before  that  jieriod;  and  Xenophon 
was  about  twenty  years  younger  than  Thucydides. 

Herodotus,  a  native  of  Ilalicarnassus,  one  of  the  Greek  cities 
of  Asia,  has  written  the  joint  history  of  the  Greeks  and  Persians 
from  the  time  of  Cyrus  the  Great  (599  b  c.)  to  the  battles  Oi' 
Plataca  and  Mycale,  a  period  of  120  years.*  He  treats  incident- 
ally likewise  of  the  history  of  several  other  nations — of  the  Egyp- 
tians, Assyrians,  Medes,  and  Lydians.  His  account  of  Egypt,  in 
particular,  is  extremely  niinute  and  curious.  He  had  travelled 
into  that  country,  and  besides  what  he  relates  from  actual  know- 
ledge and  observation,  he  was  at  much  pains  to  obtain  from  the 
priests  every  degree  of  information  they  could  give  him  of  the  an- 
tiquities and  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  country.  He 
likewise  visited  the  greatest  part  of  Greece,  travelling  thence  into 
Thrace  and  Scyihia;  and  in  Asia  he  made  a  journey  to  Babylon 
and  Tyre,  and  the  most  considerable  places  in  Syria  and  Pales- 
tine. With  the  object  of  writing  his  history,  he  seems  to  have 
been  most  solicitous  to  collect  information  from  every  quarter; 
and  it  is  his  greatest  fault  that  he  has  not  been  sufficiently  scrupu- 
lous in  his  admission  of  many  idle  and  absurd  anecdotes,  which  he 
had  too  much  good  sense  to  believe,  and  yet  thought  not  unwor- 
thy of  being  recorded.  It  is  true,  tlwt  for  the  most  part  he  puts 
the  reader  on  his  guard  in  such  matters  as  he  considers  to  be 
either  palpably  fabulous  or  not  sufficiently  authenticated;  but  the 
dignity  of  history  is  debased  even  by  the  admission  of  such  mat- 
ter, under  whatever  caution  it  is  presented.  It  is  not  to  be  denied, 
however,  that  the  merits  of  Herodotus  are  of  no  common  degree. 
When  we  consider  him  as  the  earliest  writer  of  regular  history 
among  the   ancients  whose   works  have  been  preserved;  while  we 


•  Herodotus  gives  a  very  brief  detail  of  the  preceding  period,  from  the  roi^n 
ot  Gyrres,  king  of  Lydia  (713  b.  c.)  to  the  birth  oi  Cyrus:  but  the  hislu  ^ 
properly  commences  willi  Cyrus 


CH.    VIII. J  HERODOTUS TUUCYDIDES.  253 

observe  the  valuable  and  instructive  details  wliicn  wo  find  in  liim, 
and  in  no  other  historian,  and  remark  that  the  subsequent  writers 
of  reputation  have  rested  for  many  material  facts  on  his  authority, 
while  we  attend  to  the  unaffected  ease  and  simplicity  of  his  nar- 
rative, the  graceful  flow  of  his  style,  and  even  the  charm  of  his 
antiquated  Ionic  diction — there  is  perhaps  no  jiistorian  of  antiquity 
who  deserves  a  higher  estimation.*  Several  of  the  ancient  writers 
have  impeached  the  character  of  Herodotus  in  point  of  veracity; 
out  none  in  such  severe  terms  as  Plutarch,  who  has  written  a 
pretty  long  dissertation,  expressly  to  show  the  want  of  faith  and 
the  malignity  of  the  historian.  The  fact  is,  that  Plutarch  bore 
strong  enmity  against  flerodotus  for  a  supposed  aspcr>ion  cast  by 
that  historian  on  the  honor  of  his  country.  Herodotus  had  relat- 
ed that,  in  the  expedition  of  Xerxes,  the  Thebans,  apprehensive 
of  the  fate  of  their  own  territory,  deserted  the  common  cause  and 
joined  the  Persians.  The  fact  was  true;  but  Plutarch,  who  was 
a  native  of  Chaeronea,  one  of  the  Theban  states,  could  not  bear 
this  imputation  on  his  country,  and  wreaked  his  sjjleen  on  the 
historian  in  the  treatise  before  mentioned.  The  fiicts  which  he 
instances  are  in  general  very  trifling,  and  are  chiefly  such  sto- 
ries as  the  historian  owns  he  has  related  on  dubious  authority. 
Herodotus  is  said  to  have  recited  history  to  the  Greeks  assembled 
at  the  solemn  festival  of  the  Panathenaia,  or,  as  others  say,  at  the 
Olympic  games — an  expedient  for  the  good  policy  of  which 
Lucian  gives  him  credit,  as  there  could  be  no  means  half  so  speedy 
of  making  known  his  genius  and  circulating  his  reputation.  Those 
public  recitations  had  an  admirable  effect.  It  was  this  display  of 
the  talents  of  Herodotus  and  the  fame  which  attended  it,  that 
kindled  the  enthusiasm  of  genius  in  the  young  Thucydidcs. 

Thucydides  was  a  native  of  Athens,  and  of  an  illustrious  fami 
ly;  being  allied,  by  the  female  line,  to  the  kings  of  Thrace,  and 
by  the  male,  a  descendant  from  Cimon  and  Miltiades.  A  con- 
temporary, and  familiarly  acquainted  with  many  of  the  most 
remarkable  men  of  his  country,  with  Socrates,  Plato,  Pericles, 
Alcibiadcs,  it  was  no  wonder  that  he  felt  the  noble  emulation  of 
raising  himself  a  name  in  future  ages.  He  was  bred  to  the  pro- 
fession of  arms,  and  distinguished  himself  honorably,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war  of  Peloponnesus;  but  having  miscarried  in  an 
attempt  to  relieve  Amphipolis,  then  blockaded  by  the  Lacedaemo- 
nians, he  was  banished,  on  that  account,  from  his  country,  for  the 
space  of  twenty  years.  He  retired  to  the  island  of  jEglna,  and 
employed  the  long  period  of  his  exile  in  composing  his  history 
of  the  Peloponnesian  war,  of  the  progress  and  detail  of  which, 
besides  his  own  personal  knowledge,  he  sj)ared  no  pains  to  obtain 


*  In  Ilerodoto,  cam  omnia,  (nt  pjto  qiiidem  sentio.)  Icniter  fluunt,  turn  ipsa 
SiuXtxTo;  lialirt  cam  jiicnnditatpm  ut  laleiilcs  etiaiii  numeros  coiiiploxa  videatu 
— Quint,  de  Just.  Or.  lit).  i.\.  c.  4. 


'-.J  1  UNivKiis.u,   iiisTonv.  [book  II 

the  most  accurate  information.  Introductory  to  his  principal  siih- 
ject  ho  c;ivi's  a  short  view  of  the  Grecian  history,  from  the  depart- 
ure of  Xerxes,  to  the  commencement  of  the  war  of  Peloponnesus, 
which  ct)nnects  his  history  with  that  of  Herodotus:  hut  he  brings 
down  the  detail  of  the  war  only  to  the  twenty-first  year.  The 
history  of  the  remaining  six  years  was  written  by  Theopompus 
and  Xenoi)hon. 

Thucydides  is  deservedly  esteemed  for  the  authenticity  ol  his 
facts,  his  impartiality,  and  fidelity.  We  are,  indeed,  involuntarily 
led  from  his  narrative  to  favor  the  cause  of  his  countrymen,  the 
Athenians;  of  whom,  however,  it  may  be  presumed,  he  had  no 
reason  to  exa2;gerate  the  merits.  The  style  of  Thucydides  is  a 
contrast  to  that  of  Herodotus.  The  eloquence  of  the  latter  is 
copious  and  dilFuse,  and  his  expression,  never  rising  to  the  elevated 
and  magnificent,  is  chiefly  reniarkable  for  its  simplicity  and  per 
spicuity.  The  former  has  a  closeness  and  energy  of  style,  which 
is  equally  lively  and  energetic.*  Like  Tacitus,  he  rises  often  to 
great  sublimity  of  expression,  and,  like  that  author  too,  his  diction 
is  so  compressed,  that  we  find,  often,  as  many  ideas  as  there  are 
words. f  His  narrative  does  not  convey  his  meaning  easily,  and 
without  effort.  He  makes  the  reader  pause  upon  his  sentences, 
and  keeps  his  attention  on  the  stretch  to  apprehend  the  full  im- 
port of  his  expressions.  That  effort  of  attention,  however,  is 
always  amply  rewarded,  by  the  wisdom  and  sagacity  of  his  obser- 
vations, the  intimate  knowledge  he  shows  of  his  subject,  and  the 
perfect  confidence  which  he  inspires  of  his  own  candor  and 
veracity. 

There  is  no  other  among  the  Greek  writers  who  has  shone  more 
in  the  department  o^  iiistory,  than  Xenophon.  This  author  was 
about  thirty  years  younger  than  Thucydides;  contemporary  with 
many  of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  Greece;  and  educated  in  the 
school  of  Socrates.  He  accompanied  the  younger  Cyrus  in  his 
war  against  his  brother  Artaxerxes,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  that 
expedition,  commanded  the  Greek  army  in  the  service  of  Cyrus. 
We  know  the  flital  issue  of  that  enterprise,  in  which  Cyrus  fell  by 
the  iiand  of  his  brother;  —  a  just  reward  for  his  unnatural  and 
criminal  ambition. |  The  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand  Greeks, 
under  Xenophon,  gave  him  great  fame  as  an  able  commander, 
eminently  endowed  with  persevering  courage,  fertile  in  resources. 


"Densuset  brevis,  et  semper  inslans  sibi  Thucydides:  dulcis  et  candidus  et 
fusus  Herodotus ;  ille  concitatis,  hie  reniissis  affectibus  nielior ;  ille  concionibus, 
hie  sermonibus :  ille  vi,  hie  voluptate. — Quintil.  1.  x.  c.  i. 

t  Thucydides  omnes  dicendi  artificio  mea  sententia  facile  vicil,  ut  vprborum 
prope  iiuineruin   sententiaruiii   numero  consequatur :    ita   porro   verbis  aptus  et 

Eressus.  ut  nescias  ulrum  res  oratioue,  an  verba  sentenliis  illustrentar. —  (  icero 
b.  2.  De  Oral, 
t  See  supra,  book  ii.  chap.  2. 


Cll.   VIII. ]  XENOPHO.V  256 

unci  possessing  that  happy  talent  of  address,  and  that  popular  elo- 
quence, wiiich  are  fitted  for  gaining  the  ready  obedience  and  the 
confidence  of  an  army.  The  narrative  of  this  remarkable  expedi- 
tion, written  by  himself,  has  justly  entitled  him  to  a  high  rank 
among  the  historians  of  antiquity.*  His  historical,  political,  and 
philosophical  works  are  numerous. f  Among  these,  one  of  the 
most  known,  though  certainly  not  of  the  highest  merit,  is  the 
Cyrop(rjJia,  or  Education  of  Cyrus;  a  fanciful  composition,  which 
blends  history  and  romance,  and  is  equally  unsatisfying  in  the  one 
point  of  view  as  in  the  other.  It  is  supposed  that  the  author 
meant  to  exhibit  the  picture  of  an  accomplished  prince.  But  if 
that  was  his  aim,  to  what  purpose  those  frivolous  and  childish  tales 
of  the  nursery,  those  insijiid  jests,  and  that  endless  verbiage  and 
haranguing  upon  the  most  ordinary  and  trifling  occasions.'' 

Xenojjhon  was  a  man  of  strict  virtue  and  probity,  of  strong 
religious  sentiments,  referring  all  to  the  watchful  administration  of 
the  Deity,  but  prone  to  the  superstitious  belief  of  auguries  and 
omens.  As  a  writer,  in  point  of  style,  he  is  a  model  of  easy, 
smooth,  and  unaffected  composition  ;  and  his  pure  Attic  dialect 
has  infinite  grace,  and  a  singular  perspicuity  or  transparency  of 
expression,  which  presents  the  thought  at  once  to  the  reader's 
mind,  and  leaves  him  no  leisure  to  attend  to  the  medium  through 
which  it  is  conveyed:  —  a  supreme  excellence  of  style,  and  rare, 
because  ignorantly  undervalued,  in  competition  with  point,  brillian- 
cy and  rhetorical  embellishment.  Quid  ego  commemorem  (says 
Quintilian)  Xenophontis  jucundilatem  illam  inajfectatam,  sed  quam 
nulla  possit  affectalio  consequi  —  xil  ipsce  finxisse  sermonem  Grati(Z 
vidtantur')  \ 

The  three  historians  I  have  mentioned  had  the  fortune  to  live 
in  that  age  which  witnessed  the  highest  national  glory  of  their 
country.  But  Greece,  even  in  the  days  of  her  degcnerary  as  a 
nation,  produced  some  historians  of  uncommon  merit.  Polybius 
lived  in  the  second  century  before  the  birth  of  Christ;  at  the  time 
when  the  only  surviving  spirit  of  the  Greeks  was  that  which  ani- 
mated the  small  states  of  Achaia.  His  father,  a  native  of  Me- 
galoj)olis  in  Arcadia,  was  Prtetor  of  the  Acha?an  republic,  and 
executed  that  important  oflice  with  great  honor.  Polybius  was 
trained  from  his  youth  to  public  affairs,  for  which  his  abilities  emi- 

•  See  supra,  book  iJ.'chap^'Q. 

\  He  wrote,  besides  the  Anabasis  and  the  Cvropffidia,  a  continuation,  in  seven 
Dooks,  of  the  Greek  hist/iry  of  Thucydidei :  a  Panegyric  on  Agesilaus;  two  trea- 
tises on  the  L:iceda;nionian  and  Athenian  Republics;  The  Apc^logy  for  Socrates; 
and  four  hfuiks  of  tlie  Mrmorahilia  of  that  philosopher  ;  a  treatise  on  Dotneslic 
Economv  ;  The  Banquet  ;  Hiero.  or  the  Kconomy  of  a  Monarchy  ",  besides  some 
smaller  ess:iy<i  on  Imposts,  Hunting,  Horsemanship;  and  some  Epistles  of  wliich 
we  have  onlv  fraijmenLs. 

t  "  Wliy  should  I  mention  that  unaffected  sweetness  in  Xenophon,  which  no 
affectation  could  ever  reach  —  so  that  the  Graces  themselves  seem  to  have  mod 
elled  bis  ccmpositioa  r" 


25G  UNlVKIiSAI,     IlISTOItY.  [liOOK    I) 

nciitly  cuKilIfinl  lilni.  lie  accompanied  liis  fallicr  on  an  embassy 
lo  the  couri  of  the  Piolcniics  in  Egypt,  and  aflcrwards  went  him 
self  as  aiiil)assa(l()r  lo  Rome,  where  he  resided  for  several  years. 
Dnriyg  that  peiiod  ho  employed  himself  most  assiduously  in  the 
study  of  the  aiiticjuilips,  laws,  and  customs  of  the  Romans;  and 
having  permission  from  the  senate  lo  search  into  the  records  pre- 
served in  the  capitol,  obtained  a  more  exact  and  profound  acquain- 
tance with  the  history  and  constitution  of  the  Roman  republic 
than  any  of  its  own  citizens.  It  was  probably  by  the  advice  of 
the  great  Scipio  and  La-lius,  who  w'ere  his  intimate  friends,  that 
he  formed  the  splendid  design  of  composing  a  history  of  Rome, 
which  should  comprehend  that  of  all  the  contemporary  nations  with 
which  the  affairs  of  the  republic  were  connected.  Preparatory, 
however,  to  this  great  undertaking,  he  resolved  to  travel  into  every 
country  where  lay  the  scene  of  any  of  those  events  he  designed  to 
record.  In  that  view  he  visited  most  of  the  southern  nations  of 
Europe,  a  considerable  part  of  Asia,  and  the  coast  of  Africa.  He 
explored  himself  the  traces  of  Hannibal  in  his  march  across  the 
Alps,  and  made  himself  acquainted  with  all  the  Gallic  nations  in 
their  vicinity.  In  short,  no  writer  was  ever  more  scrupulous  in  the 
investigation  of  facts,  or  more  perfecllj'  acquainted  with  the  scenes 
he  had  to  describe.  Thus  his  history  is  deservedly  of  the  very 
highest  authority  among  the  compositions  of  the  ancients.  It  is 
much  to  be  lamented  that  so  small  a  portion  should  remain  of  so 
valuable  a  work.  Of  forty  books  which  he  wrote,  beginning  from 
the  commencement  of  the  second  Punic  war,  and  carried  down  to 
the  reduction  of  Macedonia  into  a  Roman  ])rovince,  we  have  only 
the  first  five  books  entire,  and  extracts,  or  rather  an  abridgment,  of 
the  following  twelve,  with  some  detached  fragments  from  the  re- 
maining books  preserved  by  other  writers.  AV  e  see  in  every  page 
of  Polybius,  the  intelligent  officer,  the  sagacious  politician,  and  the 
man  of  probity  and  candor.  He  neither  disguises  the  virtues  of 
an  enemy,  nor  palliates  the  faults  of  a  friend.  His  description  of 
military  operations  is  clear  and  distinct,  and  his  judgment  is  every 
where  conspicuous  in  reasoning  on  the  counsels  which  directed  all 
public  measures,  and  the  causes  which  led  to  their  success  or  fail- 
ure. The  style  of  Polybius  has,  indeed,  no  claim  to  the  praise  of 
eloquence.  Dionysius  of  Ilalicarnassus  reproaches  him  with  care- 
le^>sness  in  the  choice  of  his  expressions,  and  inattention  to  the 
rifles  of  good  writing:  but  he  is  every  where  perspicuous,  and  the 
sterling  value  of  his  matter  abundantly  compensates  for  his  defects 
in  point  of  rhetorical  composition. 

The  next  who  deserves  to  be  mentioned  among  the  Greek  his- 
torians of  eminence,  is  Diodorus  Siculus,  who,  in  the  latter  period 
of  the  commonwealth  and  in  the  age  of  Augustus,  composed  at 
Rome  his  excellent  General  History,  a  work  of  thirty  years' 
labor,  of  which  only  fifteen  out  of  forty  books  have  been  preserv- 
ed.    The  first  five  books  relate  to  the  fabulous  periods,  but  record 


CH.     VIII.J  DIONVSIUS.  251 

likewise  a  great  deal  of  curious  historical  matter  relative  to  the 
antiquities  of  the  Egyptians,  Assyrians,  Persians,  and  Greeks. 
The  next  five  books  are  wanting.  The  eleventh  book  begins  with 
the  expedition  of  Xerxes  into  Greece,  and  continuos  the  Grecian 
history,  and  that  of  the  contemporary  nations,  down  to  the  age  of 
Alexandel*  the  Great.  Tlie  author  is  particularly  ample  on  the 
affairs  of  the  Romans  "and  Carthaginians.  The  work  of  Piodorus 
appears  to  have  been  in  great  esteem  with  the  writers  of  antiquity. 
The  elder  Pliny  is  high  in  his  commendation;  Justin  Martyr  ranks 
him  among  the  most  illustrious  of  the  Greek  historians;  and  Euse- 
bius  places  greater  weight  on  his  authority  than  that  of  any 
other  writer.  The  modern  writers  have  blamed  him  for  chronolo- 
gical inaccuracy.  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  History  of  Dio- 
dcrus  is  replete  with  valuable  matter,  and  that  his  style,  though 
not  to  be  compared  to  that  of  Xenophon  pr  Thucydides,  is  pure, 
perspicuous,  and  free  from  all  affectation. 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  deserves  to  be  ranked  amoiig  the 
most  eminent  of  tlie  Greek  writers  of  history,  both  in  regard 
to  the  importance  of  his  matter  and  the  merit  of  his  style,  which, 
though  deficient  in  simplicity,  is  often  extremely  eloquent.  Dio- 
nysius came  to  Rome  in  the  reign  of  Augustus,  and  continuing  to 
reside  there  twenty-two  years,  employed  that  time  in  the  most  dili- 
gent research  into  the  ancient  records,  in  conversation  with  the 
most  learned  men  of  that  age,  and  in  the  perusal  of  the  older 
writers,  whence  he  collected  the  materials  of  that  most  valuable 
work  which  he  composed  in  twenty  books,  entitled  Roman  Jlnti' 
quities.*  Of  these  only  the  first  eleven  books  have  been  pre- 
served, in  which  the  origin  and  foundation  of  the  Roman  state  are 
treated  with  great  amplitude,  and  the  history  of  the  republic 
brought  down  to  the  end  of  the  decemviratc.  He  has  been  cen- 
sured for  dealing  in  the  marvellous  ;  but  the  censure  applies 
equally  to  Livy,  who  has  repeated  the  same  stories,  without,  it  is 
probable,  eitlun"  believing  them  himself  or  expecting  his  readers 
to  do  so.  Those  who  write  of  the  origin  of  nations  have  but 
scanty  materials  of  genuine  history,  and  are  dius  tempted  to  eke 
them  out  with  the  popular  fables.  And  these  it  is  sometimes  im- 
portant to  know,  as  they  have  frequently  given  rise  to  ceremonies 
and  customs  both  of  a  religious  and  civil  nature,  of  which  the 
origm  may  therefore  be  considereil  as  belonging  to  authentic  his- 
tory. The  point  in  which  Dionvsius  is  more  justly  to  be  blamed 
s  his  fondness  for  system,  and  the  desire  he  has  to  persuade  his 
readers  of  his  own  sagacity  in  discovering,  as  he  imagines,  a  deep 
and  refined  policy  in  the  founders  of  the  Roman  state,  in  all  those 
constitutional  regulations  regarding  the  powers    and  rights  of  the 


"*  He  gives,  in   tlie  TntrodtiRtlon  to  liis    work,   an    ample  acconnl    of  all    the 
•ources  of  information  from  which  liis  liistory  is  compiled. 

VOL.  r.  33 


458  UNivEiisAr-  HisTonv.  [book    i 

fiinbreiii  orders,  the  functions  of  the  magistrates,  &c.,  which  in 
realily  could  only  have  arisen  gradually  and  progressively,  as  cir* 
cuuisiances  poiiiicd  out  and  re(julred  lh(;ui.  Of  this  error  of 
Dionysius,   I  shall  have  another  occasion  to  lake  some  notice. 

'I'iiere  are  few  of  the  ancient  historians  who  deserve  a  higher 
rank  in  the  estimation  of  the  n)oderns  than  Arrian,  whose  history 
of  the  expedition  of  Alexander  is  the  most  authentic  narrative  we 
have  of  the  exploits  of  that  great  concjueror,  as  he  is  also  the  best 
expositor  of  the  real  motives  and  designs  of  that  extraordinary 
man,  of  whose  policy  such  opposite  judgments  have  been  formed. 
The  narrative  of  Arrian,  as  he  informs  us  in  his  preface,  is  founded 
on  the  accounts  given  by  two  of  Alexander's  principal  officers, 
Aristohulus  and  Ptolemy  Lagus,  afterwards  the  sovereign  of  Egypt. 
No  historical  record,  therefore,  has  a  better  claim  to  the  public 
faith.  The  brief  account  of  India  by  Arrian,  which  includes  the 
curious  journal  of  Ncarchus's  voyage,  is  likewise  extremely  inter- 
esting and  instructive.  The  style  of  Arrian  formed  ou  that  of 
Xenophon,  is  a  very  happy  imitation  of  that  author's  simplicity, 
purity,  and  precision.  Arrian's  merits  are  not  solely  those  of  an 
accurate  and  able  historian;  he  was  likewise  a  profound  philoso- 
pher. It  is  to  his  writings  that  we  owe  all  our  knowledge  of  the 
sublime  morality  of  Epictetus,  of  whom  he  was  the  favorite  disci- 
ple, and  has  diligently  recorded  the  philosophical  lessons  and 
maxims  of  his  master.  The  short  treatise  entitled  the  Enchiridion 
of  Epictetus,  which  is  a  complete  epitome  of  the  stoical  morality, 
was  written  by  Arrian,  and,  from  its  beautiful  precision,  is  periiaps 
on  the  whole  a  more  valuabre  memorial  of  that  great  pliilosopher 
than  the  four  books  which  Arrian  has  collected  of  his  discourses. 

The  last  author  I  shall  mention  of  those  properly  to  be  classed 
among  the  Greek  historians  is  Plutarch,  and  perha|)s  there  is  no 
writer  of  antiquity  of  ecpial  value  in  point  of  important  matter 
and  useful  information.  Plutarch  was  a  Boeotian  by  birth,  a  native 
of  Checronca,  a  small  state  of  which  his  father  was  chief  magis- 
trate, with  the  title  of  Archon.  He  was  borne  in  the  48th  year 
of  the  Christian  era,  under  the  reign  of  the  emperor  Claudius. 
In  his  youth  he  travelled  into  Egypt,  and  while  in  that  coimtry, 
studied  under  Ammonius,  a  celebrated  teacher  of  philosophy  at 
Alexandria.  Returning  thence  into  Greece,  he  visited  all  the 
schools  of  the  philosophers  in  that  country;  and,  finally,  with  a 
mind  replete  with  useful  knowledge  and  an  extensive  acquaintance 
with  men  and  manners,  he  repaired  to  Rome,  for  the  purpose  of 
examining  the  public  records  and  collecting  materials  for  the  lives 
of  the  illustrious  men  of  Italy  and  Greece.  The  reputation  he 
had  acquired  as  a  man  of  great  erudition  procured  him  the  acquaint- 
ance, of  all  the  learned,  and  introduced  him  to  the  notice  of  the 
emperor  Trajan,  who  honored  him  with  high  marks  of  his  favor 
and  friendship,  and  conferred  on  him  the  proconsular  gr  vcrnment 
of  Illyria.     A    public    life,   however,   was    irksome    to   Plutarch, 


CU.   VIII.]  PLUTARCH  259 

whose  chief  enjoyment  lay  in  the  pursuits  of  literature  aiuj  phi- 
losophy. He  returned,  after  the  deatli  of  Trajan,  to  iiis  native  city 
of  Chccronea,  where  he  passed  the  remaining  years  of  a  long  life 
in  discharging  the  office  of  its  chief  magistrate,  in  ihe  composition 
of  his  excellent  writings,  and  in  the  continual  practice  of  all  the 
active  and  social  virtues.  The  lives  of  Illustrious  Men,  written 
by  Plutarch,  must  upon  the  whole  be  ranked  among  the  most  val- 
uable works  which  remain  to  us  of  the  ancients.  He  is  the  only 
author  who  introduces  us  to  an  intimate  and  familiar  acquaintance 
with  those  great  men,  whose  j)uhlic  exploits  and  political  characters 
we  find  indeed  in  other  historians,  but  of  whose  individual  features 
as  men,  and  of  their  manners  in  domestic,  private,  and  social  inter- 
course, we  should  be  utterly  ignorant,  were  it  not  for  his  descriptive 
paintings,  and  the  truly  characteristic  anecdotes  which  he  records 
of  them.  What,  if  at  times  the  biographer  is  chargeable  with  a 
little  garrulity,  and  a  too  scrupulous  minuteness  in  the  detail  of  cir 
cumstances  not  of  the  highest  importance?  So  natural  is  the  desire 
felt  by  the  ingenious  mind  of  knowing  every  thing  that  concerns  a 
great  and  illustrious  character,  that  we  can  much  more  easily  for- 
give the  writer  who  is  ciieerfully  lavish  of  the  information  he  has 
collected,  and  at  times  descends  even  to  trifling  particulars,  than 
him  who,  from  a  proud  feeling  of  the  dignity  of  authorship,  is 
fastidiously  sparing  of  his  stores,  and  disdains  to  be  ranked  among 
the  collectors  of  anecdote. 

A  great  charm  of  Plutarch's  writings  is  the  admirable  vein  of 
morality  which  pervades  all  his  compositions.  Every  sentiment 
proceeds  from  the  heart,  and  forcibly  persuades  the  reader  of  the 
amiable  candor,  worth,  and  integrity  of  the  writer.  While  his 
biographical  details  contain  ftie  most  valuable  part  of  the  ancient 
history  of  Greece  and  Rome,  his  moral  writings  include  the  sum 
of  all  the  ancient  ethics.  Perhaps  it  was  no  exaggerated  estimate 
of  his  merits  made  by  Theodore  Gaza,  when  he  declared  that  if 
every  trace  of  ancient  learning  was  to  perish,  and  he  had  it  in  his 
DOwer  to  preserve  one  sin2;le  book  from  the  works  of  the  profane 
writers,  his  choice  would  fall  upon  Plutarch. 

The  style  of  this  author,  though,  in  the  judgment  of  the  best 
Clitics,  neither  polished  nor  pure,  is  at  all  times  energetic  ;  and,  on 
those  occasions  when  the  subject  demands  it,  rises  frequently  to 
great  eloquence. 

An  ancient  Greek  epigram  of  Agathias  records  the  high  esteem 
which  the  Roman  people  entertained  for  this  excellent  writer,  in 
erecting  a  statue  to  his  honor.* 

*The  e{tigram  is  thus  translated  by  Dryden  : 

"  BfEotinn  Pliitarrh,  to  thy  donthless  praise 
Dora  martial  Homo  this  jrrarpfiil  statue  raise; 
Because  both  (Jroece  and  she  thy  fame  have  shared, 
Their  horoes  written,  and  tlieir  lives  compared. 
But  thou  thyself  could  never  write  t'hy  own  ; 
Their  lives  have  parallels,  but  thine  has  none. 


260  UNIVKU.SAL    IIISTOKV.  [bOOK  II 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Greek  Piiir.osorHV — Ionic  Sect — Th.iles — Anaximander — Anaximenes — Anax 
air(iri».j — Ilaiic  Sect — Pythairoras — Ernpedf)cle3,  Slc.  —  Eleatic  Sect — Zeno— 
Leucippr.3 — Democritus — Heraclitus — Socrates — Cyrenaic  Sect — Arislippus— 
Cynics  — Diogenes  —  iMegaric  Sect — Plato — Peripatetics — Aristotle  —  Skeplici 
— Pyrrho — Stoics — Epicureans — Reflections. 

1  HAVE  already  remarked  that  one  considerable  effect  of  the  public 
games  and  festivals  of  the  Greeks  was  the  propagation  and  advance- 
ment of  the  literary  spirit.  The  Olympic  and  other  solemn  games 
of  the  Greeks  were  not  only  tiie  field  of  martial  and  athletic  exer- 
cises, but  of  the  contests  for  the  palm  of  literature.  Those  immense 
assemblies  were  the  stated  resort  of  the  poets,  the  historians,  the 
rhapsodists,  and  even  the  philosophers. 

After  the  days  of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  the  increasing  relish  for 
poetical  comj)osition  gave  rise  to  a  set  of  men  termed  rhapsodists^ 
whose  original  employment  was  to  travel  from  one  city  to  another, 
frequenting  public  entertainments  and  solemn  festivals,  and  reciting 
the  works  of  the  poets  which  they  had  committed  to  memory.  As 
the  early  poets  were  the  first  teachers  of  the  sciences,  those  rhap- 
sodists became  con.mentators  on  their  works,  and  expositors  of 
their  doctrines.  The  youth,  who  resf)rted  to  them  for  instruction, 
dignified  their  masters  with  the  title  of  Sophists  or  professors  of 
wisdom,  and  these  sophists  soon  became  the  founders  of  different 
sects  or  schools  of  philosophy. 

The  history  of  the  ancient  philosophy,  if  we  consider  how 
small  a  portion  it  embraced  of  useful  knowledge,  and  yet  how 
ardent  the  zeal  of  its  teachers,  and  how  keen  the  controvers'es  of 
the  different  sects,  affords  on  the  whole  a  mortifying  picture  of  the 
caprice  and  weakness  of  the  human  mind:  but  on  these  very 
accounts,  no  subject  of  contemplation  is  more  fitted  to  subdue  in 
man  those  arrogant  ideas  of  his  own  abilities,  and  of  the  all-suffi- 
ciency of  his  intellectual  powers  to  subject  the  whole  phenomena 
both  of  the  natural  and  moral  world  to  his  limited  reason  and  un- 
derstanding. 

The  most  ancient  school  of  philosophy  was  that  founded  by 
Thales  of  Miletus,  about  640  years  before  the  Christian  era,  and 
termed  the  Ionic  sect,  from  the  country  of  its  founder.  Thales  is 
jaid  to  have  learned  great  part  of  his  knowledge  in  Egypt,  as  the 
ancients  were  fond  of  attributing  the  rudiments  of  all  wisdom  to 
tliat  happy  quarter.     He  became  celebrated  for  his  knowledge  in 


en.   IX.]  GREEK    PHILOiOrUV THA  VES.  26-1 

geometry  and  astronomy  ;  but  the  former  of  lliese  sciences  must 
be  su|)posed  to  have  been  at  that  time  in  mere  infancy,  when  one 
of  Thaies's  discoveries  is  said  to  have  been,  that  all  right  lines 
passing  through  the  centre  of  a  circle  divide  it  into  two  equal  parts. 
Yet  Thales  made  some  bold  and  fortunate  conjectures  in  the  sci 
ence  of  astronomy.  He  conjectured  this  earth  to  be  a  sjjhere,  and 
that  it  revolved  round  the  sun.  He  believed  tlie  fixed  stars  to  be 
so  many  suns  encircled  with  other  planets  like  our  earth  :  he 
believed  the  moon's  light  to  be  a  reflection  of  the  sun's  from  a 
solid  surface  :  and  if  we  may  trust  the  testimony  of  ancient  authors, 
he  was  able  to  calculate  eclipses,  and  actually  predicted  that 
famous  eclipse  of  the  sun  601  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ, 
which  separated  the  armies  of  the  Medes  and  Lydians  at  the 
moment  of  an  engagement.  The  metaphysical  opinions  of  Thales 
are  but  imperfectly  known.  He  su|)poscd  the  world  to  be  framed 
by  the  Deity  out  of  the  original  element  of  water,  and  animated 
by  his  essence  as  the  body  is  by  the  soul ;  that  the  Deity  there- 
fore resided  in  every  portion  of  space  ;  and  that  this  world  was 
only  a  great  temple,  where  the  sight  of  every  thing  around  him 
reminded  man  of  that  Great  Being  which  inhabited  and  pervaded 
it.*  As  a  specimen  of  the  moral  doctrines  of  Thales  we  have 
the  following  excellent  opinions  and  precepts:  "  Neither  thc*crinies 
of  bad  men,  nor  even  their  thoughts  are  concealed  from  the  gods. 
Health  of  body,  a  moderate  fortune,  and  a  cultivated  nnind,  are 
the  chief  ingredients  of  happiness.  Parents  may  expect  froir, 
their  children  that  obedience  which  they  themselves  paid  to  their 
parents.  Stop  the  mouth  of  slander  by  prudence.  Take  care 
not  to  commit  the  same  fault  yourself,  which  you  censure  in 
others."  f 

The  disciples  of  the  ancient  philosophers  frequently  inade  bold 
innovations  on  the  doctrines  of  their  masters.  Anaximander,  the 
disciple  and  successor  of  Thales,  who  first  committed  the  tenets 
of  the  Ionic  school  to  writing,  taught  that  all  things  are  in  a  state 
of  continual  change  ;  thnt  there  is  a  constant  succession  of  worlds  : 
and  that  while  some  are  daily  tending  to  dissolution,  others  are 
forming.  Anaximander  is  said  to  iiave  been  the  first  constructor 
of  the  sphere,  to  have  delineated  the  limits  of  the  earth  and  sea, 
and  to  have  invented  the  gnomon  for  pointing  jhe  hours  by  the 
shadow  on  the  sun-dial.  His  contemporary  Anaximenes,  of  the 
same  school,  believed  the  Divinity  to  reside  in  the  air,  which  he 
likewise  made  to  be  the  original  and  constituent  principle  of  all 
the  other  elements. 

The  most  intelligible  and  rational  opinions  of  any  philosopher  of 


'  Tliales — liomines  cxistimarc  oportoro,  omnia  qiioe  crrncrent  Deoriiin  rss6 
»Ieriri;  foil'  cnini  oiiinos  casliores,  velutiquc  in  funis  essenl,  nuiximc  rt-lif^iosi. — ■ 
Cic.  df  Nat    l)<'or   i.  2. 

Diojr.  Laerl  in  Vita  Thai. 


262  L'MVI.HS.tf,    UI.MOIIV.  [iJOOK    II 

this  icliool  were  llio-e  of  Anaxagoras  ;  aiio,  as  deviating  most 
from  the  vulgar  (Mrors  and  siij)erstition,  lie  was  aceused  of  impi- 
ety He  taught  that  the  first  eflicieiit  ))rinci(>le  of  all  things  was 
an  immaterial  and  intelligent  Being,  existing  from  all  eternity  ; 
that  the  substratum.,  or  suhjeet  of  iiis  ojjerations,  was  viatlery 
which  likewise  existed  from  all  eternity  in  a  chaotic  state,  com- 
prehending the  confused  rudiments  of  all  different  substances, 
which  the  intelligent  mind  of  the  Creator  first  separated,  and  then 
combined  for  the  formation  of  the  universe,  and  of  all  bodies,  ani- 
mate and  inanimate.  It  is  true  that  Thales  propagated  the  doc- 
trine of  an  eternal  mind,  the  Creator  and  Ruler  of  the  universe  ; 
but  he,  like  most  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  seemed  to  consider 
this  mind  as  united  to  matter,  which  was  animated  by  it,  as  the 
body  is  by  the  soul.  Anaxagoras  regarded  the  mind  of  the  Cre- 
ator to  be  altogether  distinct  from  matter  ;  incapable  of  being 
included  in  space  or  substance  of  any  kind,  and  of  a  nature  entirely 
pure  and  spiritual.  Eut  if  the  general  principles  of  Anaxagoras's 
philoso|)hy  were  correct  and  rational,  when  he  came  to  particu- 
lars, his  notions  partook  of  the  vulgar  absurdities.  He  conjec- 
tured the  stars  to  be  stones,  which  the  rapid  movement  of  the 
ether  had  whirled  up  into  the  region  of  fire.  The  sun  he  sup- 
posed to  be  a  mass  of  red-hot  iron,  somewhat  bigger  than  the 
Peloponnesus  ;  an  opinion,  we  are  told,  which  led  to  a  charge  of 
impiety,  and  was  punished  by  sentence  of  banishment  and  a  fine  of 
five  talents  ;  though  Pericles,  who  had  been  Anaxagoras 's  puj)il, 
stood  forth  on  that  occasion  as  his  defender.  His  successors  of 
the  Ionic  school  were  Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  and  Archelaus  ;  the 
latter,  the  master  of  Socrates,  who  thence,  in  strict  arrangement, 
should  be  recorded  among  the  philosophers  of  the  Ionic  sect  ;  but 
as  this  great  man  made  a  signal  revolution  in  philosophy,  I  delay 
to  mention  his  doctrines  and  opinions,  till  I  give  a  brief  account 
of  the  notions  of  his  predecessors. 

Soon  after  the  Ionic,  arose  the  Italic  sect,  so  termed  from 
the  country  where  Pythagoras,  its  founder,  is  said  to  have  first 
taught.  Pythagoras  is  generally  believed  to  have  been  a  native 
of  Samos  ;  but  the  time  in  which  he  flourished  is  quite  uncertain. 
All  that  Brucker  concludes,  from  comparing  the  different  accounts, 
is,  that  his  era  may  be  placed  somewhere  between  the  forty-third 
and  fifty-third  Olympiad  ;  that  is  to  say  near  six  centuries  before 
the  birth  of  Christ.  Pythagoras  travelled  .nto  Egypt,  where  he 
spent,  as  is  said,  no  less  than  twenty-two  years  :n  the  study  of 
the  sciences,  as  well  as  of  the  secret  doctrines  of  the  priests. 
After  the  invasion  of  that  country  by  Cambyses,  he  was  carried 
among  the  captives  to  Babylon,  where  he  increased  his  stores  of 
wisdom  by  the  conversation  of  the  magi.  Thence  he  is  said  to 
have  travelled  into  India,  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gymnosophists.  Returning  into  his  native  country  of 
Samos,  he  chose  to  escape  the  tyranny  of  its  sovereign  by  migra- 


CH.    IX.]  PYTHAGOUEA.VS.  3G3 

ting  Into  Iialy,  wliore  he  established  a  school  at  Crotona,  and  sig- 
nally contributed,  by  his  doctrines  and  example,  to  reform  tb~ 
manners  of  that  dissolute  city.  In  imitation  of  the  Egyptian 
priests,  Pythagoras  professed  two  different  kinds  of  doctrine,  the  on^- 
accommodated  to  vulgar  use,  and  the  other  reserved  for  the  prv 
vate  ear  of  his  favorite  disciples.  The  object  of  the  former  was 
morality;  the  latter  consisted  of  many  mysteries  which  we  are 
probably  at  no  loss  for  being  very  little  acquainted  with.  Five 
vears  of  silence  were  requisite  for  preparing  his  scholars  for  the 
participation  of  these  secrets.  These  disciples  formed  among 
themselves  a  sort  of  community;  they  lived  all  in  the  same  house 
together  with  their  wives  and  children;  the}''  had  their  goods  in 
common,  and  their  time  was  parcelled  out  and  appropriated  to 
various  exercises  of  mind  and  body.  Music  was  in  high  esteem 
with  them,  as  a  corrective  of  the  passions;  and  they  had  one 
kind  of  music  for  the  morning,  to  awaken  and  excite  the  faculties, 
and  another  for  the  evening,  to  relax  and  compose  them.  The 
notion  which  Pythagoras  inculcated  of  the  soul's  transmigratioK 
through  different  bodies,  made  his  disciples  strictly  abstain  from 
animal  food.  As  a  proof  that  Plutarch,  though  commonly  regarded 
by  the  critics  as  an  unpolisb.ed  writer,  was  not  destitute  of  elo- 
quence, we  might  desire  any  one  to  read  that  short  oration  of  his 
TTfoi  Quoxo(fayt(e;',  an  apology  for  the  Pythagoreans  abstaining  from 
the  flesh  of  animals,  of  which  there  is  a  beautiful  paraplirase  in 
the  -Enir/e  of  Rousseau;  an  address  to  the  feelings  which  would 
almost  make  iis  believe  ourselves  monsters,  for  indulging  an  appe- 
tite so  cruel  and  unnatural. 

The  main  object  of  the  philosophy  of  Pythagoras  was  to  mortify 
and  subdue  the  corporal  part  of  our  nature  by  a  certain  prescribed 
course  of  discipline,  and  thus  to  prepare  and  fit  the  intellectual 
part  for  its  proper  function,  the  search  of  immutable  truth,  the 
contemplation  of  the  divine  nature,  and  the  nature  of  the  human 
soul.  The  long  silence  enjoined  to  his  disciples  accustomed  them 
to  mental  abstraction.  The  sciences  of  arithmetic,  music,  geome- 
try, and  astronomy,  were  sedulously  cultivated;  but  whether  as 
considered  to  be  parts  of  the  preparatory  discipline,  or  as  the  ob- 
jects of  that  discipline,  seems  to  be  a  little  uncertain.  The  latter 
woitld  appear  the  more  probable  supposition,  for  this  reason,  that 
the  i)hilosopher  taught  that  much  mysterious  and  hidden  truth  was 
contained  in  certain  arithmetical  numbers  and  geometrical  and 
musical  proportions,  which  he  communicated  only  to  the  higher 
and  more  advanced  class  of  his  disciples.  Pythagoras  regarded 
the  human  soul  as  consisting  of  two  parts — the  one  a  sensitive, 
which  is  common  to  man  and  the  inferior  animals;  the  other  a 
rational  and  divine,  which  is  common  to  man  with  the  Deity,  and 
is  indeed  a  part  of  the  divine  nature.  The  first  perishes  with  the 
body,  of  which  it  is  an  inseparable  .adjunct;  the  other  survives 
and  is  immortal;  but  after  the   death   of  one   body  it  enters  into 


884  IJMVERSAI,    HISTOIIV.  [HDOK    II. 

anotlier,  and  so  passes  llirotigh  an  endless  series  of  nansniigralions. 
It  is  piinislicd  hy  dngiadalion  into  the  body  of  an  inferior  animal, 
and  thus  snllers  a  tcni|)orary  suspension  of  its  rational  and  intellect- 
ual nature.  It  was  this  notion  which  led  to  abstinence  from  the 
flesh  of  animals.  It  is  uncertain  whether  Pythagoras  committed 
any  of  his  doctrines  to  writing.  What  remains  under  his  name  is 
commonly  believed  to  have  been  the  writing  of  some  of  his  disci- 
ples. The  Golden  Verses,  on  which  Hierocles  has  written  a  com 
mentary,  and  which  contain  the  ])rincipal  moral  tenets  of  the 
Pythagorean  philosophy,  are,  from  the  polished  structure  of  the 
verse,  evidently  of  a  much  later  age  than  that  of  the  |)liilosopher. 
They  have  been  attributed  with  some  probability  to  Epicharmus, 
who  lived  about  440  b.  c. 

Of  the  Pythagorean  or  Italic  sect,  there  were  many  philoso- 
phers of  reputation: — among  others,  Empedocles  of  Agrigentum, 
who  attained  to  considerable  eminence  in  physical  science,  and 
who  is  said  to  have  thrown  himself  into  the  crater  of  Mount  Etna, 
either  from  the  desire  of  exi)loring  the  cause  of  its  eruptions,  or  of 
pro})agating  the  belief  that  the  gods  had  caught  him  up  into 
heaven;  it  is  a  wiser  and  more  charitable  su})position,  that  he 
owed  his  death  to  a  laudable  but  rash  curiosity.  Epicharmus  of 
Agrigentum,  the  sui)posed  author  of  the  Jlurea  Carmina.,  was  Yi^"- 
wise  a  teacher  of  the  Pythagorean  philosophy,  and  attemj)tea  lo 
render  its  doctrine  popular  by  introducing  them  to  the  public 
through  the  medium  of  the  drama;  a  project  which  gave  offence 
lo  the  graver  teachers  of  wisdom,  but  procured  this  philosopher  a 
more  extensive  reputation;  for  his  comedies  were  so  excellent, 
that  Plautus  did  not  disdain  to  borrow  from  them.  Archytas  of 
Tarentum  was  likewise  of  the  Pythagorean  school.  He  is  said  to 
have  suggested  that  division  of  the  ten  predicaments,  which  was 
afterwards  adopted  by  Aristotle.  It  is  as  an  able  geometrician  and 
astronomer  that  Horace  has  embalmed  his  memory  and  recorded  his 
unhappy  fate. 

"  Te  maris  et  terra?,  numernque  carentis  arense 
Mensorcin  cohibent.  Archyfa, 
Pulveris  exigui  prope  litus  parva  matinum 

Miinera,  nee  qiiicqiiam  fibi  prodest 
Aerias  tentasse  doin(>s,  anitnoqiie  rotundum 
Percurrisse  polum  morituro."  * 

Hor.  Od.  1.  i.  28. 

He  perished  by  shipwreck,  in  a  voyage   undertaken  probably  for 
die  purpose  of  astronomical  or  geometrical   discoveries.     But  tlie 


'  Close  by  the  shore  a  span  of  earth  contains, 
Oh,  mighty  man  of  art !  thy  last,  thy  great  remains ; 
Whose  penetrating  mind  and  skilful  hands 
Measured  the  heavens  and  earth,  and  numbered  all  the  sands. 
Vain  is  tliv  learning  now  ;  thy  active  soul 
No  more  shall  trace  the  stars,  or  travel  to  the  pole." 

BerUley. 


CH.   IX. J        '  ELEATIC    SCHOOL,  265 

most  celebrated  philosopher  of  the  Pythagorean  sect,  of  whose 
opuiions  we  have  the  best  information,  because  derived  from  his  own 
writings,  is  Ocellus  Lucanus.  His  treatise  IJfql  ra  tjuvto;,  or  ot 
the  Universe,  has  come  down  to  our  limes  entire,  and  is  a  valuable 
monument  of  the  philosophy  of  the  ancients.  His  fundamental 
doctrines  are  the  eternity  of  the  mundane  system,  and  its  absolute 
perfection,  so  as  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  change  from  the 
failure  or  corruption  of  any  of  its  parts.  From  this  ancient  philo- 
sopher, Aristotle  and  Plato  have  borrowed  largely  in  their  writings 
on  the  nature  of  the  universe. 

The  Eleatic  sect  of  philosophy,  believed  to  have  sprung  from 
the  Pythagorean  or  Italic,  was  founded  by  Xeno|)hanes,  about 
500  years  before  Christ.  It  was  called  Eleatic  because  it  owed 
its  fame  chiefly  to  Parmenides,  Zeno,  and  Leucippus,  natives  of 
Elea,  a  city  of  JEoYvd.  The  mctaj)hysical  doctrines  of  this  sect, 
m  so  far  as  we  caa  judge  of  them  from  the  few  fragments  which 
have  survived,  and  the  notices  of  them  found  in  the  works  of 
Aristotle,  are  perfectly  unintelligible.  They  maintained  that  things 
had  neither  a  beginning,  an  end,  nor  any  change;  that  all  the  phe- 
nomena which  we  see  of  changes  in  the  visible  world  are  entirely 
in  our  own  senses;  and  that  of  the  real  essence  of  things  we  have 
no  perception,  and  therefore  can  attain  to  no  knowledge  :  but  as 
our  senses  are  fallacious,  and  it  is  only  through  their  medium  that 
we  perceive  any  thing,  so  we  cannot  trust  to  them,  and  therefore 
have  no  assurance  of  the  truth  of  any  thing  whatever.  Yet  upon 
this  basis  of  nothing,  the  Eleatics  (strange  to  tell)  raised  a  system 
of  physios,  of  which  the  principal  doctrines  were,  that  the  universe 
was  a  compound  of  the  four  elen)ents;  that  the  stars  were  kindled 
up  by  the  motion  of  the  clouds;  that  the  sun  was  an  immense  body 
of  ignited  vapor;  but  that  various  suns  lighted  various  parts  of  the 
earth;  and,  finally,  (the  only  rational  dogma,  though  not  derived  by 
any  logical  inference  from  premises,)  that  there  is  but  one  God 
who  rules  over  all  nature. 

Of  the  Eleatic  school  were  Leucippus  and  his  disciple  Demo- 
critus;  though  they  seem  to  have  introduced  a  philosophy  co' 
siderably  difTerent  from  that  of  Parmenides,  Xeno|)h;uu's,  anci 
Zeno.  Leucippus  supposed  all  things  to  have  originated  from 
atoms,  moving  in  an  infinite  space,  and  producing  all  sensible  ob- 
jects by  their  combinations:  but  it  was  only  these  combinations 
that  we  perceived;  we  did  not  perceive  the  atoms  themselves; 
we  therefore  did  not  perceive  the  reality  of  things,  but  only  their 
appearances;  a  strange  and  pitiful  so|)histry.  If  Democritus  held 
these  opinions,  it  was  no  wonder  that  he,  who  is  said  to  have 
laughed  at  every  thing,  should  have  laughed  at  the  doctrines  of 
his  own  sect,  and  at  all  who  adopted  them:  but  the  truth  is,  that 
Democritus  was  of  no  such  sportive  disposition.  He  spent  the 
greatest  part  of  his  life  (which  was  extended  to  a  hundred  years) 
ji  solitary  study,  in  observing  the  phenomena  of  nature,  making 
VOL.   I.  34 


266  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY  [bOOK   M 

expeinnf:n(.s  on  minerals,  and  dissecting  the  human  body — a  course 
of  life  whicli  indicates  a  genius  superior  to  the  folly  of  framing  idle 
tlieorics  on  the  sole  basis  of  conjeciiire. 

From  the  same  school  of  Elea,  ihongh  sometimes  aecounteu 
the  father  of  a  new  sect,  was  Ileracliins,  whose  disposition,  the 
reverse  of  that  of  Democritus,  accounted  every  thing  a  matter  of 
melancholy.  He  seems  to  have  been  endowed  with  the  austere 
spirit  of  a  Carthusian;  for,  rejecting  the  chief  magistracy  of  his 
native  city,  Ephesus,  on  account  of  the  incorrigible  vice  of  its 
inhabitants,  he  betook  himself  to  the  desert,  and  (ed  upon  roots 
snd  water,  making  the  beasts  his  companions  in  preference  to  man. 
He  wrote  a  treatise  on  Nature,  in  which  he  made  fire  the  origin  of 
all  things;  but  this  fire  he  conceived  to  be  endowed  with  mind,  and 
to  be  properly  the  anima  mvndi^  or  the  Divinity.  His  writings 
were  purposely  obscure,  whence  he  got  the  epithet  of  l^xoreivog^ 
or  the  dark  philosopher.  It  is  said,  that  Euripides  having  sent 
this  treatise  on  Nature  to  Socrates,  the  latter,  with  his  accustomed 
modesty,  gave  it  this  character,  "That  all  that  he  could  under- 
stand of  it  seemed  good;  and  that  what  surpassed  his  understand- 
ing, he  presumed  might  likewise  be  so." 

Hitherto,  the  principal  object  of  the  ancient  Greek  philosophy 
seems  to  have  been  the  framing  of  theoretical  systems  of  the 
origin  and  fabric  of  the  universe,  and  the  nature  of  the  Divinity, 
accounted  its  soul,  or  animating  principle:  sublime,  no  doubt,  and 
daring  speculations,  but  little  accommodated  either  to  the  weak 
intellect  of  man,  or  suited  to  improve  his  moral  nattn-e  and  increase 
his  happiness.  We  must  now  speak  of  a  philosopher  who  took 
juster  views  both  of  the  powers  and  of  the  wants  of  human  nature, 
and  who,  accordingly,  directed  his  attention  to  that  true  philosophy 
whose  object  is  at  once  to  enlighten  the  understanding  and  improve 
the  heart.  It  is  easily  perceived,  that  I  speak  here  of  Socrates, 
he  who,  according  to  Cicero's  comprehensive  eulogy,  "brought 
down  philosophy  from  heaven  to  dv.ell  upon  earth,  who  made  her 
even  an  inmate  of  our  habitations,"  *  and  directed  her  research  to 
the  real  interests  of  man,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  highest  attainable 
nappiness.  With  the  fate  of  this  illustrious  teacher  we  are  already 
acquainted,  f  It  is  necessary  here  only  to  take  notice  of  his  method 
of  philosophizing,  and  of  his  principal  doctrines.  Greece  was,  in 
the  days  of  Socrates,  overrun  with  Sophists — pretended  philoso- 
phers, whose  whole  science  consisted  in  a  certain  futile  logic;  an 
artificial  ap|)aratus  of  general  arguments,  which  they  could  apply 
to  every  topic,  and  by  which  they  could  maintain,  with  an  appear- 
ance of  plausibility,  either  side  of  any  proposition.  It  was  usual 
for  these  philosophers  to  get  up  in  the  public  assemblies  or   in  the 


*  Cic.     Tusc.  quBBst.  1.  i.  c.  5. 
i  See  supra,  book  ii  c.  2. 


CH.   IX.]  SOCRATES.  267 

theatres,  and  offer  to  argue  or  make  an  oiuiion  on  any  subject  that 
should  bo  named.  The  Athenians,  a  superficial  peojde,  Ibnd  o*" 
every  thing  new  and  extraordinary,  were  guite  captivated  with 
this  kind  of  jugglery.*  The  Sophists  passed  for  the  wisest  and 
most  eloquent  of  men;  and  the  youth  (locked  in  crowds  to  their 
schools,  where  the  rudiments  of  this  precious  art  were  explained 
and  communicated.  The  sober  jiart  of  the  Athenians  judged  this 
to  be  a  very  useless  discipline  ;  but  the  wiser  Socrates  saw  the 
pernicious  tendency  of  this  new  art  of  philosophizing,  which  made 
every  thing  uncertain  and  problematical;  and  his  penetrating  intel- 
lect easily  perceived  the  method  by  which  it  was  to  be  exjjosed  and 
destroyed. 

As  all  the  strength  and  skill  of  the  Sophists  lay  in  the  applica- 
tion of  general  arguments  to  the  questions  which  they  canvassed, 
nothing  more  was  necessary  for  their  confutation  than  to  bring 
them  to  particulars — to  set  out  by  some  simple  and  self-evident 
proposition,  which  being  granted,  another  followed  equally  unde- 
niable, till  the  disputant  was  conducted,  step  by  step,  by  his  own 
confessions,  to  that  side  of  the  question  on  which  lay  the  truth. 
No  method  could  be  devised  more  effectual  than  this  for  the  detec- 
tion of  sophistry;  and  the  Athenian  logicians  very  soon  found  that 
their  general  apparatus  of  argument  would  not  avail  them  against 
so  subtile  an  antagonist.  They  lost  all  credit  and  reputation  as 
philosophers;  but  they  had  influence  enough  to  poison  the  minds 
of  the  people  with  the  belief  that  Socrates  taught  impious  doctrines, 
contrary  to  the  religion  of  their  country;  and  their  malice,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  was  but  too  successful.  Their  revenge  was 
satiated  by  the  death  of  one  of  the  best  of  men  :  a  crime  which 
drew  upon  Athens  the  reproach  of  all  Greece,  and  which  she 
vainly  endeavored  to  expiate  by  the  punishment  of  his  judges, 
and  the  honors  paid  to  his  memory. 

The  doctrines  of  Socrates,  which  he  never  committed  to  writing, 
are  only  to  be  gathered  imperfectly  from  Plato  and  Xenophon. 
The  latter  is  the  better  authority,  as  Plato  is  generally  believed  to 
have  used  the  name  of  Socrates  on  many  occasions  to  give  weight 
to  his  own  opinions.  Socrates  founded  all  his  morality  on  the 
belief  of  a  God,  who  delightinl  in  virtue,  and  whose  justice  would 
reward  the  good  and  punish  the  wicked  in  an  after  state.  Of  con- 
sequence, he  believed  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  He  held 
that  there  were  intermediate  beings  between  God  and  man,  who 
presided  over  the  different  parts  of  the  creation,  and  who  were  to 
be  honored  with  an  inferior  worship.  lie  believed  that  virtuous 
men  were  particularly  favored  by  the   Divinity,  who  more  espe 


"  Seneca  has  well  cnm])an'(i  sophistical  rcasoninir  to  the  tricks  of  a  jugglei, 
though  he  jiujirrs  too  favorably  in  ancounling  it  a  hartiiless  play:  ''  Idi'iii  de 
istis  captionibus  dice-  nee  ignorant!  nocent,  nee  ecientein  juvniit."  —  Sen 
Epist.  45. 


•68  UNIVKRSAI.    IllSlOliy.  [liOOK   II 

fiiilly  iiianifcsicd  his  care  of  ihcin  liy  il'f-'  constant  |)rcsciice  and 
aiil  of  a  good  guniiis,  wiio  diructcd  all  llioir  atlions,  and  guarded 
ihcm  hy  secret  monitions  from  iui|)Pn(iing  evils;  but  on  tliis  sub- 
ject, as  he  declined  to  express  himself  uidi  precision,  it  has  been 
reasonably  conjectured,  that  he  alluded  merely  to  the  inOuence  of 
conscience,  which  extends  its  power  to  the  virtuous  alone,  and 
deserts  the  vicious,  abandoning  them  to  the  just  consequences  of 
their  crimes.  With  regard  to  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  Socrates 
belli  that  all  science  was  contemi)tible  which  did  not  tend  to  the 
happiness  of  man,  by  the  regulation  of  his  conduct  in  society;  that 
the  most  beneficial  wisdom  is  to  be  intimately  acquainted  with 
ourselves,  to  see  our  errors  and  defects,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to 
amend  them.  He  inculcated  a  veneration  for  the  religion  of  oui 
country,  a  strict  respect  to  its  laws,  and  a  reverence  for  its  govern 
ors,  while  at  the  same  time  he  held  the  rational  opinion  tliat  liie 
true  foundation  of  legal  government  is  the  consent  of  the  people, 
and  the  surest  bond  of  the  subject's  allegiance,  the  watchful  care 
and  virtuous  disposition  of  the  sovereign. 

Socrates  did  not  affect  the  manners  or  the  habits  of  a  public 
teacher.  He  had  no  school ;  he  gave  no  j)rofessed  lectures  on 
philosophy;  he  mingled  with  his  fellow  citizens  in  all  ranks  of  life, 
conversing  with  each  man  on  the  subjects  best  suited  to  his  occu- 
pation and  talents.  The  theatres,  the  temples,  the  shops  of  the 
artists,  the  courts  of  justice,  the  public  streets,  were  all  occasion- 
ally the  scene  of  his  moral  conversations  and  instructive  arguments. 
Even  the  house  of  the  courtesan  Aspasia  was  honored  witii  his 
frequent  visits.  He  found  in  that  accomplished  won)an  a  mind 
stored  with  various  knowledge,  an  acute  and  vigorous  understand- 
ing, and  those  engaging  manners  which  gave  her  a  powerful  hold 
of  the  minds  of  the  Athenian  youth.  She  was  the  mistress  and 
confidant  of  Pericles,  who  did  not  disdain  to  consult  her  on  affairs 
of  public  concern.  If  we  should  hesitate  to  suppose  that  the 
philosopher  thought  it  not  unworthy  of  his  character  to  improve 
her  morals  and  reclaim  her  mind  to  virtue,  he  might  leasonably 
seek  his  own  improvement,  and  avail  himself  of  her  knowledge  of 
the  world  to  enlarge  and  extend  his  powers  of  utility. 

"  Tutor  of  Athens  !  he  in  every  street 
Dealt  priceless  treasure:  goodness  his  delight, 
Wisdom  his  wealth,  and  glory  his  reward. 
Deep  througli  the  human  leart.  with  playful  skill, 
His  simple  question  stole  ;   as  into  trutli 
And  serious  deeds  he*smilcd  the  lauirhinnr  race; 
Taught  moral  happy  life,  whate'er  can  bless 
Or  grace  mankind ;  and  what  he  tau<rlit  he  was." 

Thomson's  Liberty,  part  n. 

With  the    death  of   Socrates,  sophistry  regained    her   empire 
Even  his  own  disciples  departed  from  the  doctrines  of  their  master 
Aristippus,  the  founder  of  the  Cyrenaic  sect,  adopted  great  pari 
of  the  Socratic  morality,  but  added  some  peculiar  opinions  of  his 


en.  IX. J  DIOGENES,  269 

own.  It  was  liis  idea  that  a  philosopher  would  follow  justice  and 
the  practice  of  virtue,  from  the  sole  consideration  of  his  own  ad- 
vantage, and  without  regard  to  the  interests  of  others.  He  placed 
the  chief  happiness  of  man  in  pleasure,  and  true  philosophy  wa.« 
that  which  procured  the  largest  portion  of  selfish  gratification.  We 
must  presume  that  intellectual,  not  sensual  pleasure,  was  in  the  i)hi- 
losopher's  contemplation  while  he  advanced  this  dogma;  but  even 
with  this  allowance,  his  object  was  far  less  worthy  than  that  which 
his  master  proposed,  general  utility. 

The  morality  of  Socrates,  thus  modified  by  the  Cyrenaic  sect 
and  not  improved,  was  pushed  the  length  of  extravagance  by  the 
Cynics.  The  founder  of  this  sect  was  Antisthenes,  a  pupil  of 
Socrates,  but  who  probably  did  not  possess  the  esteem  of  his 
master.  To  evince  his  contempt  of  luxury,  he  chose  to  wear  an 
old  and  tattered  cloak.  "  Why  so  ostentatious?"  said  Socrates. 
"  Through  your  ragged  coal  I  see  your  vanity."  Virtue,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  Cynics,  consisted  in  renouncing  all  the  conveniences 
and  comforts  of  life.  They  clothed  themselves  in  rags,  disdained 
to  live  in  a  house,  slept  in  the  streets,  ate  nothing  but  what  was 
coarse  and  insipid,  and  wandered  about  the  country  with  a  stick 
and  a  knapsack.  They  decried  all  the  arts  as  either  useless  or 
dangerous.  Science  was  altogether  fruitless  and  unnecessary;  for 
a  virtuous  man  had  attained  to  the  perfection  of  his  nature,  and 
had  no  need  to  learn  any  thing.  From  voluntary  ignorance  they 
advanced  to  impudence ;  and  having  nothing  to  lose,  while  they 
scorned  all  gain,  they  indulged  themselves  in  satire  and  invective, 
without  restraint.  It  is,  however,  not  irriprobable  that  this  spirit 
of  censure  with  which  they  were  actuated  has  drawn  many  calum- 
nies on  their  sect.  The  vices  with  which  Diogenes  has  been 
reproached  are  hardly  to  be  believed,  when  we  know  that  some 
of  die  most  virtuous  of  the  Greeks  were  his  admirers  and  dis- 
ciples. 

As  the  character  of  this  extraordinary  person  was  differently 
judged  of  in  his  own  time,  some  accounting  him  the  wisest  of  men, 
and  others  little  better  than  a  madman,  it  is  no  wonder  that  his 
estimation  with  the  moderns  should  be  equally  various.  It  is  not 
to  be  doubted  that  the  love  of  singularity  was  a  powerful  motive 
of  his  conduct  and  opinions.  He  opposed  the  common  sense  of 
mankind,  and  affected  a  contempt  even  of  reputation,  as  he  found 
that  conduct  a  new  mode  of  acquiring  it.  I>ut  that  in  his  character 
there  were  many  features  of  a  truly  j^hilosophic  mind,  we  are  war- 
rai<ed  to  conclude  from  the  uncommon  excellence  of  those  opinions 
and  sentiments  of  his  which  the  ancient  authors  have  preserved. 
Diogenes  held  that  the  practice  of  virtue  was  man's  chief  end  of 
existence;  that  as  the  body  is  strengthened  by  active  labor,  the 
mind  is  invigorated  and  kept  in  hcalih  by  a  constant  tenor  of  active 
virtue;  that  even  the  contempt  of  pleasure  is  a  solid  and  rational 
pleasure;  that  self-aj^plausc  is  a  sufficient  reward  to  the  wise  man; 


^YO  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [noOK  II. 

while  glory,  honors,  and  weahh  are  only  the  b;iit  of  fools;  th.-it  the 
consiiimnation  of  folly  is  to  he  loud  in  the  praise  of  virtue  without 
practisin;^  it;  that  the  gods  refuse  the  prayers  of  man  often  from 
compassion. 

The  eaustic  wit  of  Diogenes  procured  him  both  enemies  and 
admirers.  Of  this  talent  the  ancient  writers,  and  particularly  his 
'namesake  Laertius,  have  preserved  many  specimens.  There  was 
a  mutual  hostility  between  him  and  Plato.  That  the  latter,  how- 
ever, entertained  no  mean  opinion  of  the  talents  of  his  rival, 
appears  from  his  terming  him  a  Socrates  run  mad.  Plato  had 
defined  man  to  be  a  two-legged  animal  without  feathers.  Dio- 
genes plucked  the  feathers  from  a  cock,  and  thrust  him  into  the 
academy:  "See,"  said  he,  "Plato's  manV  The  bluntness  of 
his  manners  was  exemplified  in  his  celebrated  answer  to  Alexander 
the  Great,  who,  coming  to  visit  the  philosopher,  and  finding  him 
seated  in  his  tub,  asked  if  he  could  do  him  any  favor;  "Yes," 
said  the  other,  "  stand  from  between  me  and  the  sun."  Discours- 
ing, one  day,  in  a  grave  tone,  on  the  practice  of  virtue,  when 
he  observed  his  auditors  dropping  off,  he  began  all  at  once  to 
bawl  out  a  song  of  ribaldry  and  nonsense,  when  immediately  a 
great  crowd  gathered  around  him:  "See,"  said  he,  "how  willingly 
a  fool  is  listened  to,  when  a  wise  man  is  neglected."  Hearing, 
on  one  occasion,  a  worthless  fellow  lamenting  that  he  was  dying 
at  a  distance  from  his  native  country,  "Don't  be  uneasy,  friend, 
about  that,"  said  he,  "  w'herever  you  die,  you'll  find  a  passage 
to  hell."  ^    . 

It  is  not  a  little  extraordinary  that  a  sect  even  of  sophists  should 
have  arisen  from  the  school  of  Socrates.  This  was  the  Megaric 
sect,  of  which  Euclid  was  the  founder;  not  Euclid  the  mathema- 
tician, for  his  science  owned  no  affmity  with  sophistry.  The 
Megaric  philosophers  were  the  happy  inventors  of  those  logical 
quibbles  which,  even  in  modern  ages,  have  exercised  the  talents  of 
the  gravest  men,  and  which  were  often  employed  with  success  to 
propagate  error  and  obscure  the  truth.  The  chief  philosophers  of 
this  sect,  besides  its  founder,  were  Eubulides,  Alexinus  Elecnsis, 
chaiacterislically  named  Elenchinus  or  the  Wrangler,  Diodorus, 
surnamed  Cronos  or  the  Driveller,  and  Stilpo,  a  philosopher  of 
real  learning  and  ability,  but  who  gave  too  much  importance  to 
subtilty  of  disputation — in  Brucker's  phrase,  in  liligioso  dicendi 
genere  potentissimus. 

The  most  celebrated  of  the  disciples  of  Socrates  was  Plato, 
a  philosopher  whose  doctrines  have  had  a  more  extensive  and  a 
more  lasting  empire  over  the  minds  of  mankind  than  those  perhaps 
of  any  other  of  the  ancients.  Plato,  a  native  of  ^^gina,  and  thus 
by  his  country  an  Athenian,  was  born  about  430,  b.  c.  His 
lineage  was  most  illustrious,  being  descended  on  the  father's  side 
from  Codrus,  and  on  the  mother's  from  Solon.  With  every 
accomplishment  of  education  suitable  to   his  birth,   and  showing 


CH     IX.]  PLATO.  271 

early  indications  of  a  genius  for  poetry,  he  attached  hitnself  at  the 
age  of  twenty  to  the  school  of  Socrates,  and  soon  became  the 
greatest  adept  in  the  philosophy  of  his  master,  whose  discourses 
he  committed  to  writing  in  the  same  colloquial  form  in  which 
they  were  delivered.  The  Dialogues  of  Plato  are  therefore  the 
most  ample  documents  of  the  Socratic  philosophy,  though  not  the 
most  correct  and  pure;  for  it  was  Plato's  practice  to  blend  his  own 
opinions  with  those  of  Socrates,  and  this  without  any  note  of  dis- 
tinction. He  learned  the  dialectic  art  from  Euclid  the  Megaric, 
he  studied  the  Pytiiagorean  system  under  Philolaus  and  Archytas; 
and  his  travels  into  Egypt  accomplished  him  in  all  the  wisdom  of 
that  country,  and  particularly  in  the  science  of  geometry.  Re- 
turning to  Athens,  he  established  his  school  in  the  grove  called 
the  Academy,  over  the  gate  of  which,  to  show  the  importance  he 
annexed  to  mathematical  studies,  he  placed  this  inscription,  Ovdn^ 
dyeuiuf-TQijTog  iiaiTo,  "  Let  none  enter  here  who  is  ignorant  of 
geometry." 

The  rsputation  of  Plato  procured  him  numberless  hearers  and 
admirers.  Among  these  were  some  of  the  most  eminent  men  of 
Greece.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  Demosthenes,  Isocrates,  and 
Aristotle  were  his  disciples.  The  philosophy  of  Plato  embraced 
three  distinct  branches  of  science  :  theology,  under  which  aro 
comprehended  his  metaphysical  opinions;  jjiiysics;  and  politics. 
In  the  first  department  it  was  Plato's  fundamental  doctrine  thai 
from  nothing,  nothing  can  proceed.  Believing,  therefore,  in  the 
eternal  existence  of  the  Deity,  he  believed  likewise  in  the  eternity 
of  matter,  as  the  substratum  or  v^  of  the  Deity's  operations- 
This  matter,  however,  was  in  a  chaotic  state,  and  endowed  with  no 
qualities  whatever,  till  the  eternal  mind  conferred  those  qualities 
upon  it,  reduced  it  into  order,  and  thus  formed  the  beautiful 
fabric  of  the  universe,  of  which  the  idea  or  archetype  had  existed 
from  all  eternity  in  himself.  But  in  chaotic  matter  Plato  con- 
ceived that  as  there  was  an  original  deformity,  so  there  was  a 
natural  resistance  to  that  perfect  order  and  excellence  which  the 
Deity  sought  to  produce,  but  which  he  could  not  entirely  over- 
come; and  hence  the  origin  of  that  evil  whicii  pi.tially  contami- 
nates his  works:  yet  here  the  philosopher  seems  hirijclf  to  perceive 
the  objection  from  the  boundless  power  of  the  Divinity,  as  he 
expresses  himself  with  great  obscurity  on  the  subiect.  His  notions 
of  God,  however,  are  not  only  most  sublime,  but  extremely  refined. 
He  conceived  that  the  Divine  nature  consisted  of  three  distincl 
essences,  states,  or  hypostases:  the  first  a  j/ure  and  self-existent 
Essence,  whose  sole  attribute  was  goodness,  jjence  indiscriminately 
termed  by  Plato  t6  up  and  li  uyadot-;  the  second  he  conceived  to 
be  Mind,  the  wisdom  or  reason  of  the  first,  and  the  proper  Crea- 
tor of  the  universe,  and  therefore  by  Plato  termed  sometimes  Aou^ 
(the  intelligence,)  .ioyn;  (the  word,)  and  sonietimcs  J\iiii:i))o;  (the 
Creator  ;)  the  third  he  conceived  to  be  the  Soul  of  the  world  ;  as 


272  UMVKRSAi.  nisrouY.  [hook   ii 

lie  conctivcd  [Iw.  nctivity  of  creatcrl  matter  to  iiif(T  an  inhabiting 
mind,  and  this  ho  termed  either  simply  the  (fX'i  (die  soid,)  or 
(jrt'/»/  Til  yd/iiii  (soul  of  the  world.)  The  second  hypostasis  he  sn|)- 
posed  to  be  an  emaiwuion  from  the  first,  and  die  third  from  b(jth. 
Such  is  the  Platonic  Trinity,  bearing,  in  its  general  description,  a 
strong  resemblance  to  the  Christian  ;  but  dilltMing  in  this  material 
point,  that  in  the  former,  the  second  and  third  persons  arc  subor- 
dinate and  inferior  to  the  first.  Yet  the  learned  Cuduortli  and 
other  ingenious  men  have  strenuously  labored  to  prove  the  jierfect 
conformity  of  the  two  doctrines. 

But  in  the  metaphysics  of  Plato  there  is  yet  another  principle, 
which  it  is  more  ditiicult  to  comprehend.  This  is  his  doctrine  of 
ileas,  wliich  in  some  parts  of  his  writings  he  seems  to  consider  as 
eternal  existences  separate  from  the  Divinity,  and  in  others,  to 
regard  only  as  certain  forms  or  notions  eternally  existing  in  the 
Divine  mind.  The  former,  Plutarch  *  seems  to  think,  was  Plato's 
meaning.  But  be  this  as  it  may,  he  regarded  those  ideas  as  snrne- 
think  eternal  and  immutable,  and  therefore  held  that  they  were 
the  only  true  and  proper  objects  of  science.  It  was  according  to 
these  eternally-existing  ideas  that  God  himself  had  formed  the 
universe,  which  he  endowed  widi  a  living  soul,  whence  proceed 
both  its  periodical  revolutions  and  its  active  and  productive  energy. 
But  the  universe,  being  thus  animated  by  a  soul  which  proceeds 
from  God,  is  hence  to  be  considered  as  containing  a  part  of  the 
Divinity.  The  planets  are  in  like  manner  animated  by  a  part  of 
the  Divine  nature.  JNIan,  endowed  with  a  rational  soul,  contains 
within  himself  a  part  of  God.  That  part — his  intellectual  spirit — 
therefore,  existed  from  all  eternity,  and  is  in  its  nature  incapable 
of  extinction.  Inhabiting  a  body  of  corrupt  and  rebel  matter,  it 
is  subject  to  vice  and  misery;  but,  by  a  noble  wariare  against  the 
corruption  of  its  earthly  vehicle,  by  subduing  its  unruly  passions, 
and  exercising  itself  in  the  practice  of  virtue  and  divine  contem- 
plation, it  best  fits  itself  for  returning  to  its  original  state,  a  coex- 
istence with  the  Divinity. 

What  is  properly  termed  the  physics  of  Plato  is  so  chimerical, 
to  say  no  worse,  that  it  scarcely  merits  attention.  Fire  and  earth 
he  supposed  were  the  component  parts  of  the  visible  world,  and 
these  were  united  by  air  and  water.  The  particles  of  earth  are 
cubes,  those  of  fire  are  pyramidial,  those  of  air  are  octohedrons, 
and  those  of  water  eicosihcdrons.  They  are  combined  according 
to  geometrical  laws,  and  the  anima  miindi  gives  motion  and  regu- 
larity to  the  whole. 

In  politics  Plato  was  equally  a  visionary  sjieculatist  as  in  physics. 
In  his  Repidlic  and  Dialogue  on  Laics,  his  notions  betray  an 
Ignorance  of  human  nature,  with  much  enthusiasm  of  mind,  and  a 


See  his  Platonic  Questions  and  Commentarv  on  the  Tim<cus  of  Plato 


ClI.   IX. j  PLATO ARISTOTLE.  273 

large  fund  of  benevolence.  He  wished  to  make  all  men  philoso- 
phers, and  to  extinguish  every  vicious  propensity  by  an  absolute 
control  of  the  passions;  and  his  Republic  might  subsist  were  such 
a  scheme  practicab'e. 

Two  circumstances  seem  chiefly  to  have  contributed  to  the 
great  popularity  and  duration  of  the  Platonic  philosoi)hy:  the  one, 
the  eloquence  with  which  its  doctrines  were  pro})Oun(led;  the  other, 
the  pleasing  eflect  of  the  notion  which,  b}'  approaching  man  to  the 
Dety,  and  making  him  even  a  part  of  the  Divine  natiiie,  flattered 
his  pride,  and  increased  his  self-importance. 

Tlie  school  of  Plato,  or  the  philosophy  of  the  Ancient  Academy, 
had  in  itself  many  divisions,  whose  particular  distinguishing  tenets 
it  would  be  both  tedious  and  fruitless  to  enumerate.  But  the 
Platonic  philosophy  found  its  chief  opponents  in  four  remarkable 
sects — those  of  Aristotle,  of  Pyrrho,  of  Zeno,  and  Epicurus;  in 
other  words,  the  Peripatetic,  the  Skeptic,  the  Stoic,  and  the  Epi- 
curean. 

Aristotle  was  born  at  Stagyra,  a  Thracian  city,  then  under  the 
dominion  of  Macedonia.  His  father  was  physician  to  Philip,  the 
father  of  Alexander  the  Great.  After  a  youth  of  dissipation,  he 
betook  himself  with  indefatigable  ardor  to  the  study  of  i)liilosophyi 
and  was  for  tw-eniy  years  a  favorite  disciple  of  Plato.  His  high 
reputation  for  universal  learning  procured  him  from  Philip  the 
important  charge  of  the  education  of  the  young  Alexander — a 
trust  which  he  fulfilled  with  zeal  and  ability.  After  his  pupil  had 
arrived  at  manhood,  and  had  begun  the  career  of  his  impetuous 
life,  the  philosopher  repaired  to  Athens,  where  he  established  a 
school  of  philosophy  in  the  Lyceum.  It  was  his  custom  to  dis- 
course to  his  disciples  in  walking,  and  hence  his  philosophy  was 
termed  peripatetic.  Endowed  with  great  original  genius,  he  dis- 
dained an  implicit  adlierence  to  the  doctrines  of  Plato,  or  those  of 
any  other  pliilosopher.  He  not  only  dared  to  think  and  reason 
for  himself  on  almost  every  branch  of  human  knowledge,  uut, 
nobly  confident  of  his  own  powers,  to  prescribe  the  laws  of  rea- 
soning to  others,  and  even  to  reduce  to  system  the  combined 
result  of  all  that  was  known  In  his  age,  both  in  the  science  of  mat- 
ter and  of  mind.     A  great  body  of  his  writings  is  yet  preserved,* 


*  Very  few  of  the  writings  of  Aristotle  were  published  durinij  his  lifotiine. 
Among  these  few  were  probably  his  Poetics  and  his  Art  of  Rhetoric,  as  hi.th 
tlicw  treatises  were  composed  for  the  use  of  liis  pupil  Alexander,  and  miijlit 
probihly  pass  into  many  hands  during  the  lifi'  of  tlieir  author.  The  rest  of  his 
works  he  herpicathed  to  Theophrastiis,  wlio  left  them  to  Neleus  Scepsiiis  ;  liie 
latter  sold  a  part  of  them  to  Ptolemy  Pliiladelphos,  and  these  perished  in  the 
burning  of  the  Alexandrian  library.  The  rest  were  buried,  as  is  said,  for  the 
sake  of  preservation,  in  some  subierraneo'.ia  vault,  where  they  lay  forgotten  for 
I'M  years,  and  at  their  recovery  were  found  in  a  very  defective  stale  from 
corruption.  In  that  state  they  fell  into  the  hands  of  Apellieon  of  Teos,  who 
supplied   the  deficiencies  from  his  own  invention,  and   not  always  with   great 

VOL.    I.  35 


271  UNIVERSAL    HISTORr  [bOOK  II 

and  is  siifli(..ient  to  warrant  our  estimation  of  Aristotle  as  one  of 
tlie  most  vigorous  and  comprehensive  geniuses  that  ever  the  world 
has  produced. 

The  logics  of  Aristotle  are  eoiuaiiicd  in  tlic  books  of  his  Orga- 
non.  A  predominant  passion  of  this  philosojiher,  observable  in 
most  of  liis  writings,  and  more  particularly  in  his  logics,  is  the 
classifying  and  arranging  the  objects  of  knowledge.  Thus  the 
Organon  sets  out  with  a  division  of  all  things  of  a  simple  or  un- 
compounded  nature,  into  ten  categories.  Those  are  substance, 
quantity^  qxuditxj^  relation,  place,  timey  situation,  having,  doing, 
stiffering.  Each  of  these  is  discussed  at  large  in  a  separate  chap- 
ter. We  have  next  the  division  and  arrangement  of  propositions 
into  five  pranlicables  or  universals,  viz.:  genus,  species,  difference, 
propertif,  and  accident.  One  or  other  of  these  may  be  predicated 
or  afhrmed  of  all  propositions.  The  purpose  of  the  division  into 
categories,  is  to  arrange  all  the  simple  and  uncompounded  objects 
of  human  knowledge  under  certain  general  classes;  and  by  subdi- 
viding these,  as  private  soldiers  make  part  of  a  company,  and  so 
many  companies  make  a  regiment,  we  can,  in  like  manner,  muster 
all  the  notions  that  enter  the  human  mind,  in  rank  and  file,  as  a 
well-ordered  and  regular  army.  By  the  division  into  pntdicahles, 
we  are  taught  all  the  relations  which  the  subject  can  have  to  the 
predicate,  or  the  thing  affirmed  of  the  subject.  That  divisions  of 
this  kind  may  have  a  beneficial  efl^ect  in  producing  an  accuracy  in 
thinking  and  reasoning,  it  would  be  vain  to  deny;  though  it  may 
be  alike  vain  to  annex  to  them  such  a  degree  of  importance  as 
thev  seem  to  have  held  with  Aristotle  and  his  followers. 

But  the  chief  part  of  the  Organon  of  Aristotle  is  his  theory  of 
sylloffisms  contained  in  those  books  called  the  Analytics,  because 
the  intention  of  them  is  to  resolve  all  reasoning  into  simple  ingre- 
dients. It  is  well  known  what  importance  was  for  many  ages 
annexed  to  syllogistic  reasoning,  in  regarding  it,  not  only  as  a  test 
of  truth,  but  as  an  instrument  for  the  advancement  of  science.  It 
'3  low,  perhaps  more  than  it  ought  to  be,  undervalued.  It  mav 
be  safely  affirmed,  that  there  is  no  false  proposition  which  can  stand 
the  test  of  fair  syllogistic  argument;  and,  therefore,  the  utility  of 
this  criterion  for  the  detection  of  sophistical  reasoning  cannot  be 
denied.  But  it  is  equally  an  error  to  suppose,  that  syllogistic  argu- 
ment is  capable  of  leading  to  discoveries  in  any  of  the  sciences. 
If  our  forefathers,  therefore,  by  trusting  to  it  as  a  guide  in  the  lat- 
ter department,  attributed  more  to  this  mode  of  reasoning  than 
it  was  capable  of  performing,  we  of  the  present  day,  by  denying 
its  use  in  the  former,   and    altogether  exploding  its  employment, 


felicit)'.  They  came,  finally,  into  the  possession  of  Tyrannion,  the  grammarian 
who  used  the  same  freedom  to  a  yet  greater  degree.  Hence  we  must  make 
much  allowance  for  the  imperfection,  obscurity,  and  perhaps  contradiction  which 
may  be  found  in  the  writings  of  Aristotle,  as  they  now  appM?ar. 


CH.   IX.]  ARISTOTLE.  275 

seem  to  have  run  to  an  extreme  as  blameable.  This  eiror  has 
arisen  from  a  misapprehension  of  the  sentiments  of  Lord  Bacon, 
who  is  generally  supposed  to  have  condemned  the  syllogistic  mode 
of  reasoning  as  altogether  useless.  But  this  is  a  mistake.  That 
great  philosopher  justly  exploded  the  application  of  logical  reason- 
ing to  the  science  of  physics,  by  clearly  showing  that  such  a  process 
could  never  lead  to  discoveries  in  that  science,  which  were  the 
fruit  alone  of  induction  from  experiment,  and  the  observation  of 
facts.  But  he  was  far  from  denying  the  utility  of  logical  reasoning 
in  its  proper  sphere.  He  remarks,  that  it  is  the  province  of  o»"ic 
to  lead  not  to  the  invention  of  arts,  but  of  arguments,  and,  there- 
fore, that  in  the  popular  sciences  of  morality,  law,  divinity,  and 
the  like,  it  has  its  proper  and  useful  application.* 

A  large  ])ortion  of  the  works  of  Aristotle  is  occupied  by  his 
physical  writings.  In  those  he  treats  separately  of  the  nature  of 
the  world,  of  the  heavens,  of  meteors,  of  the  human  soul,  of  the 
length  and  shortness  of  life,  of  youth,  old  age,  and  death.  He 
has  likewise  given  an  ample  history  of  animals  in  ten  books — a 
portion  only  of  a  work  which  extended  to  forty  books.  The  re- 
gard which  Alexander  entertained  for  his  preceptor,  as  well  as  for 
the  interests  of  science,  was  manifested  in  his  collecting,  at  a  pro- 
digious expense,  during  his  Asiatic  expedition,  all  the  rare  produc- 
tions of  nature,  and  particularly  an  astonishing  variety  of  animals, 
which  he  sent  home  to  Greece,  for  the  use  of  Aristotle  in  the 
composition  of  his  natural  history.  The  descriptions,  therefore, 
of  natural  objects,  and  of  the  structure  and  habits  of  animals,  con- 
tained in  this  work,  are  extremely  valuable,  as  being  the  result  of 
actual  examination  and  study.  In  the  description  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  and  their  motions,  and  generally  in  mathematical  science, 
Aristotle  has  shown  less  knowledge  than  his  predecessors,  Pytha- 
goras and  Plato. 

The  vanity  of  Aristotle  prompted  him  to  aim  at  universal 
knowledge  ;  and  professing  to  embrace  the  whole  circle  of  the 
sciences,  he  only  manifests  the  more  signally  his  superficial  know- 
edge  \n  many  departments,  and  his  presumptuous  rashness  in  de- 
ciding questions  beyond  the  reach  of  human  intellect.  These 
palpable  defects  have  injured  his  legitimate  reputation  in  those 
branches  of  science  in  which  he  is  truly  excellent.  It  is  in  his 
critical  and  moral  writings  that  the  talents  of  Aristotle  are  more 
usefully  displayed  than  in  any  others  of  his  works :  I  allude  here 
to  the  fragment,  which  alone  we  possess,  of  iiis  Poetics.,  and  to 
his  -^rf  of  Rhetoric;  more  particularly  the  latter. 

The  Poetics  of  Aristotle  have  commonly  been  considered  as  a 


"See  Bacon's  works,  vol.  i.  p.  03,  folio  edition.  The  utility  of  logical  reason- 
ing ia  most  ably  shown  by  Dr.  Reid,  in  the  conclmiinjr  part  of  his  Analysis  of 
Aristotle's  Logic,  in  Sketches  of  the  Historu  of  .Man,  book  iii. 


27G  UNI  VERSA  r.  iiistokv.  [hook  ii 

hriel*  (li^irst  of  ihe  laws  of  rriticisiii  in  poetry;  hut  It  is  that  species 
of  nitif  ism  which  assigns  no  other  foundation  for  its  jiidgnicnts 
than  authority,  or  the  jiracticc  of  the  hcst  writers.  Aristotle  in 
this  fragment  has  not  ascended  to  the  source  of  criticism,  which  is 
to  bo  found  in  the  structure  of  the  mind  and  nature  of  the  passions. 
He  describes  with  great  precision  the  three  different  species  of 
poetical  comedy,  tragedy,  and  epic*  composition.  He  details  the 
requisite  inL^cdients  of  each  species  with  respect  to  subject,  as 
they  arc  classed  under  the  divisions  of  fal)Ie,  sentiments,  and  man- 
ners ;  and  he  brielly  lays  down  the  rules  for  the  structure  and 
style  of  each  species.  But  this  code  of  laws  rests  upon  the  sole 
authority  of  the  legislator,  and  not  upon  any  solid  basis  of  nature, 
or  consonance  to  the  universal  feelings  of  mankind.  The  only 
reason  given  by  Aristotle  for  their  observance  is,  that  Homer, 
j^schyius,  Soplwcles,  Euripides,  and  the  best  of  the  Greek  poets, 
have  observed  them.  This,  no  doubt,  is  a  presumption  of  their 
rationality;  and,  at  any  rate,  it  is  useful  instruction  in  any  art  to 
know  what  has  been  the  general  practice  of  the  best  artists. 

But  the  Treatise  on  Rhetoric  is  not  a  fragment,  and  muit  oe 
more  seriously  considered.  In  that  treatise,  the  author  has  given 
an  elaborate  analysis  of  the  passions,  and  of  the  sources  of  pain 
and  pleasure,  bappiness  and  unhappiness  ;  as  such  an  analysis 
affords  the  best  instruction  in  the  means  of  swaying  the  passions 
and  persuading  the  judgment  to  the  purposes  of  the  orator,  which 
it  is  the  province  of  tliis  science  to  teach.  Here  Aristotle  has 
shown  the  most  profound  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  a  genius 
truly  philosophical — in  investigating  the  most  delicate  modifications 
of  the  affections,  and  the  power  they  have  of  balancing  each  other's 
influence;  as  he  has  strikingly  evinced  his  own  peculiar  talent  of 
generalization  and  scientific  arrangement. 

The  style  of  Aristotle  is  a  great  contrast  to  that  of  Plato  :  the 
latter  is  eloquent,  diffuse,  and  figurative;  the  former  dry,  senten- 
tious, and  so  compressed,  that  it  requires  often  the  most  painful 
attention  to  follow  his  chain  of  reasoning,  and  in  many  nistances 
even  to  discover  his  true  meaning.  This  is  particularly  the  case 
in  his  metaphysical  writings.  The  obscurity  prevalent  in  these 
parts  of  his  works  was  remarked  by  ancient  writers,  and  has  given 
rise  to  numberless  commentaries  and  explanations,  totally  different 
from  each  other.  It  has  been  supposed  that  on  some  difficult 
points   of  discussion,  the  philosopher  studied  to  express  himself 


•  On  the  subject  of  comedy,  Aristotle  has  been  extremely  brief  in  his  in- 
structions. He  has  remarked,  in  general,  tliat  similar  rules  apply  to  a  comic 
as  to  a  serious  subject,  meaning  that  what  he  has  said  regarding  the  unities  of 
time,  place,  atid  subject,  and  likewise  the  congruity  of  the  sentiments  and 
manners,  have  the  same  application  in  the  one  species  of  the  drama  as  in  the 
other.  The  Poetics  of  Aristotle,  however,  are  evidently  an  iniperfecled  work 
of  which  a  considerable  part  has  perished. 


CH     IX.]  THE  PVKRIIONISTS.  271 

with  obscurity:  and  hence  Diogenes  Laertius  has  compared  him- 
self to  the  cuttle-fish,  which  darkens  the  water  around  it  to  escape 
from  danger.  But  Aristotle,  wherever  he  is  intelligible,  discovers 
ample  proof  of  a  great,  original,  and  comprehensive  genius. 

Wliile  Aristotle  was  employed  in  rearing  the  structure  of  the 
peripatetic  philosophy,  Pyrrho,  his  contemporary,  was  busy  in 
combating  the  opinions  of  all  the  different  sects  of  philosophers.* 
It  was  his  notion  that  the  only  true  wisdom  consisted  in  doubting 
of  every  thing.  Endowed  with  penetration  enough  to  discover 
the  insufficiency  of  many  of  the  prevailing  systems,  and  clearly 
perceiving  i!ie  inadequacy  of  the  human  understanding  to  resolve 
the  most  important  (juestions  both  in  the  sciences  of  matter  and  of 
mind,  it  was  liis  desire  to  expose  the  futility  of  all  the  laborious 
exertions  of  his  predecessors  in  the  search  of  truth,  and  to  find  a 
phibsophic  tranquillity  of  spirit  in  the  belief  that  all  was  doubt  and 
uncertainty. 

The  Pyrrhonists,  or  skeptics,  therefore,  formed  no  systems: 
they  amused  ihemselves  in  attacking  the  weak  parts  of  other 
schemes  of  philosophy,  and  they  had  nodiing  to  defend  of  their 
own.  They  found  great  advantage  in  the  sophistical  mode  of 
reasoning,  which  they  could  fairly  em[)loy  against  those  who  used 
it,  and  which  they  could  successfully  expose  when  used  against 
themselves.  It  was  not  unnatural  diat  the  skeptics  should  con- 
clude from  the  irreconcilable  differences  of  opinion  that  prevailed 
among  various  sects  of  philosophers,  that  among  so  many  Oj)posite 
systems  the  greater  part  had  taught  error  instead  of  truth;  but 
it  was  a  rasli  conclusion  thence  to  infer  that  truth  had  no  existence, 
or  that  certainty  on  any  subject  of  philosophical  speculation  was 
altogether  unattainable.  The  skeptic,  or  Pyrrhonist,  involuntarily 
refuted  his  own  opinions  by  his  practice;  for  though  he  held,  in 
theory,  that  there  was  no  reality  in  moral  distinctions,  and  that 
truth  and  falscliood,  virtue  and  vice,  beauty  and  deformity,  had  no 
real  or  essential  difference,  his  actions  and  conduct  in  life  were 
like  those  of  other  men,  perpetually  influenced  and  regulated  by 
the  belief  of  these  essential  differences.  Thus  the  ridicule  which  he 
affected  to  throw  upon  other  systems  could  be  retorted  with  greater 
fjrce  upon  his  own;  for  that  man  is  evidently  less  chargeable  with 
absurdity  wlio  pursues  a  line  of  conduct  which  he  believes  to  be 
right,  than  he  who  follows  a  line  of  conduct  in  absolute  doubt 
whether  it  be  right  or  wrong. 

As  the  attainment  of  a  perfect  tranquillity  of  mnid  was  the  pro- 
fessed object  of  the  Pyrrhonists,  the  opi)ositc  and  rival  sects  oi  the 
Stoics  and  Epicureans  proposed  the  same  end  in  their  systems  of 


•  Pyrrlio  wns  a  native  of  F.lca,  atKihorn  in  the  fourth  contury  before  Clirisi; 
he  w:is  a  disciple  of  AtiaxaicluH.  and  accompanied  lliat  pliilosoplier  to  India,  in 
the  expedition  of  Alexander  the  Great 


278  UNI  VERS  A  I.    IIISTOllV.  [iJOOK   II 

philosophy.  We  have  seen  that  the  course  pursued  hy  the  skep- 
tics was  a  very  iinpioper  one  to  attain  its  end,  sinee  it  is  obvious  tl)at 
there  can  he  no  mental  tranquillity  where  the  reason  and  the  feelings 
are  in  constant  opposition.  The  Stoics  cherished,  if  not  a  more 
certain,  yet  a  far  more  consistent,  and  doubtless  a  more  dignified 
system  of  sentiments  and  conduct.  They  strove  to  attain  philo- 
sophic trantjuilliiy  by  an  absolute  command  and  sovereignty  over 
the  passions,  and  a  perfect  indiflbrence  to  all  the  accidents  and 
calamities  of  life.  The  founder  of  this  sect,  which  is  among  the 
most  distinguished  schools  of  philosophy,  was  Zeno  the  younger, 
a  native  o(  Cyprus,  who  flourished  in  the  third  century  before 
Christ.  He  was  a  disciple  of  Crates  the  Cynic;  and  on  tliat 
system  of  philosophy  he  founded  his  own,  which  may  be  consid- 
ered as  an  offspring  of  the  Cynical  school.  The  Stoical  doctrines 
have  had  a  very  extensive  prevalence  and  duration;  and  though 
in  some  particulars  palpably  erroneous,  may  be  accounted,  on  the 
whole,  more  consonant  to  right  reason,  and  more  favorable  to  the 
practice  of  virtue,  than  those  of  any  other  sect  of  the  philosophy 
of  the  ancients. 

According  to  the  Stoics,  the  whole  universe,  and  God  himself, 
the  creator  and  soul  of  that  universe,  are  regulated  by  certain 
laws,  which  are  immutable  and  resulting  from  necessity.  The 
actions  of  God  himself  are  regulated  by  those  general  laws;  yet 
in  one  sense  they  may  be  considered  as  free  and  voluntary,  viz. : 
that  as  there  is  nothing  external  of  the  universe  which  God  per- 
vades, and  which  his  soul  regulates,  there  is  nothing  external  of 
himself  which  can  impel  or  necessitate  him.  Man,  according  to 
the  notions  of  the  Stoics,  is  a  part  of  the  divinity.  The  human 
soul  is  a  portion  of  that  great  soul  which  pervades  the  universe. 
The  will  of  man  is  subject,  like  the  divine  will,  to  unalterable 
laws;  yet  it  is  virtually  free,  because  man  believes  himself  a  free 
agent,  and  his  conduct  is  influenced  by  that  belief.  He  obeys 
voluntarily  and  from  inclination  that  destiny  which  he  must  have 
obeyed  ab  ante,  though  he  had  not  inclined  it.  Man  being  a  part 
of  the  universe  which  is  regulated  by  God,  cannot  complain  that 
he  is  bound  by  the  same  laws  which  regulate  and  bind  universal 
nature,  and  even  God  himself.  The  wise  man,  therefore,  never 
considers  what  is  good  or  evil  with  respect  to  himself.  Whatever 
happened  to  him  must  necessarily  have  happened  according  to  the 
order  of  nature;  because  had  it  not  been  necessary,  it  would  not 
have  happened.  The  pains  and  pleasures  of  an  individual  are, 
therefore,  unworthy  of  the  regard  of  him  who  attends  to  the  uni- 
versal good:  his  pains  and  pleasures  are  determined  by  the  same 
law  which  determined  his  existence.  He  cannot  repine  tliat  l>e 
exists,  for  at  whom  shall  he  repine.''  He  existed  by  the  necessity 
of  nature.  Virtue,  in  the  opinion  of  a  Stoic,  was  nothing  more 
than  a  manly  resolution  to  accommodate  the  unalterable  laws  of 
nature.     Vice   was    a    weak   and    dastardly    endeavor    to    oppose 


CM.    IX.]  THE     STOICS EPICURUS.  279 

\hose  laws.     Vice  tlierefore  was   folly,  and  virtue    the  only   true 
wisdom. 

But  the  virtue  of  the  Stoics  was  not  a  principle  of  tranquil  anc' 
passive  acquiescence  ;  it  was  a  state  of  continual,  active,  and  vig- 
orous exertion.  It  was  the  duty  of  man  to  exercise  the  faculties 
of  his  mind  in  acquainting  himself  w^ith  the  nature,  the  causes,  and 
the  relations  of  every  part  of  that  universe  which  he  sees  around 
him,  that  he  may  truly  understand  his  own  place  in  it,  and  the  duties 
which  he  is  destined  and  called  on  to  fulfil.  It  is  incumbent  on 
man  likewise  to  exercise  his  faculties  in  the  discerning  and  distin- 
guishing those  things  over  which  he  has  the  power  and  control, 
and  those  which  are  beyond  his  power,  and  therefore  ought  not  to 
be  the  objects  of  his  care  or  his  attention.  All  ihinsis  whatever, 
according  to  the  Stoics,  fall  under  one  or  the  other  of  these  de- 
scriptions. To  the  class  of  things  within  our  power  belong  our 
opinions,  our  desires,  affections,  endeavors,  aversions,  and,  in  a 
word,  whatever  may  be  termed  our  own  works.  To  the  class  of 
things  beyond  our  power  belong  the  body  of  man,  his  goods  or 
possessions,  honors,  dignities,  ofhces,  and  generally  what  cannot  be 
termed  his  own  works.  The  former  class  of  things  are  free,  vol- 
untary, and  altogether  at  our  command.  Tlie  latter  are  in  all 
respects  the  contrary;  we  cannot  call  them  our  own,  nor  in  any 
shape  control  them.  To  the  former,  therefore,  alone  the  wise 
man  directs  his  care,  and  by  a  due  attention  to  them  his  happiness 
is  in  his  own  power.  The  latter  he  despises,  as  incapable  of  affect- 
ing his  real  welfare,  and  in  no  degree  obedient  to  his  will. 

As  the  Stoics  believed  the  universe  to  be  the  work  of  an  all- 
powerful,  all-wise,  and  supremely  beneficent  Being,  whose  jjrovi- 
dence  continually  regulates  the  whole  of  that  system  of  which 
every  part  is  so  combined  as  to  produce  the  greatest  possible  sum 
of  general  good  ;  so  they  regarded  man  as  a  principal  instrument 
in  the  hand  of  God  to  accomplish  that  great  purpose.  The 
Creator,  therefore,  with  transcendent  wisdom,  had  so  framed  the 
moral  constitution  of  man,  that  he  finds  his  own  chief  happiness 
in  promoting  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  his  fellow  creatures. 
"  In  the  free  consent  of  man  to  fulfil  this  end  of  his  being,  by 
accommodating  his  mind  to  the  divine  will,  and  thus  endeavoring 
to  discharge  his  part  in  society  with  cheerful  zeal,  with  perfect 
integrity,  with  manly  resolution,  and  with  an  entire  resignation  to 
the  decrees  of  Providence,  lies  the  sum  and  essence  of  his   duty." 

Very  different  from  this  was  the  philosophy  of  Epicurus,  wliich, 
however,  proposed  to  itself  the  same  end — the  attainment  of  a 
perfect  tranquillity  of  mind.  The  term  by  which  he  marked  the 
object  of  his  philosophy,  contributed  much  to  increase  the  numbei 
of  his  disciples.  "The  supreme  happiness  of  man,"  said  Epicu- 
rus, "  consists  in  pleasure.  To  this  centre  tend  all  his  desires  , 
and  this,  however  disguised,  is  the  real  object  of  all  his  actions. 
The  puqiose  of  philosophy  is  to  teach  whatever    best  conduces 


280  UMVKKSAI.    IIISTOKV.  [UOOK     II 

to  ilu!  Iicalili  ol"  the  body  and  of  tin;  iiiiiul  ;  for  where  either  is 
iiiiooiiiul  or  diseased,  he  can  enjoy  no  (rue  happiness  or  pleasure. 
As  ih(!  heahh  of  the  body  is  best  secured  by  teuiperance,  and 
the  refrainini^  from  all  hurtful  gratifications  of  the  senses,  so  the 
health  of  the  mind  is  best  promoted  by  the  practice  of  virtue,  and 
the  exercise  of  the  benevolent  and  social  allections."  Thus,  the 
term  pleasure,  as  explained  by  Epicurus,  involves  nothing  unwor- 
diy  of  the  pursuit  of  the  good  and  virtuous.  Epicurus  himself  is 
said  to  have  been  a  man  of  worth  and  probity,  and  it  is  a  certain 
fact  '.hat  some  of  the  most  virtuous  of  the  ancients  were  the  pio- 
fesacd  disciples  of  his  system.  Uut  that  the  prinri|)le  of  his  |)hi- 
losophy  is  unsound,  needs  no  other  proof  than  this;  that  if  pleasure 
is  admitted  to  be  man's  chief  object  of  pursuit,  every  man  must  be 
allowed  to  be  the  best  judge  of  what  constitutes  his  pleasure,  and 
uill  determine,  according  to  his  own  feelings,  from  what  sources 
it  is  to  be  drawn.  The  practice  of  temperance  might  have  been 
the  pleasure  of  Epicurus  ;  and  we  are  told  that  it  was  so,  and 
that  his  favorite  diet,  and  what  he  usually  presented  to  his  guests, 
was  bread  and  water.  But  it  is  the  chief  j)leasure  of  others  to  be 
intemperate  and  voluptuous.  It  might  have  been  the  chief  plea- 
sure of  Epicurus  to  be  honest  and  just  in  his  dealings,  but  others 
find  pleasure  in  fraud  and  chicane.  In  short,  there  is  no  vice  or 
crime  that  might  not  find  an  apology,  or  rather  a  recomniendation. 
Had  it  not  aHbrded  pleasure  it  would  not  have  been  practised  or 
committed.  "  If  it  is  allowable  for  me,"  we  shall  suppose  the 
disciple  of  Epicurus  to  say  to  his  masier — "If  it  is  allowable  for 
me  to  pursue  pleasure  as  my  chief  object,  it  is,  of  consequence, 
allowable  for  me  to  be  vicious,  if  I  find  pleasure  in  it."  "But 
vou  are  punished,"  says  Epicurus,  "in  the  consequence;  and  you 
will  find  vice  j)roductive  of  pain  instead  of  pleasure."  "Of  that," 
says  the  disciple,  "  I  take  my  risk  ;  I  look  to  the  consequence, 
and  I  find  it  overbalanced  by  my  present  gratification  :  I  find 
pleasure  in  this  action,  notwithstanding  the  hazard  of  its  conse- 
quence:  it  is  therefore  allowable  for  me  to  commit  it."  Epicurus 
mu'=t  grant  that  the  conclusion  is  fair  and  legitimate. 

Equally  erroneous  with  his  system  of  morality,  was  Epicurus 's 
system  of  nature.  An  infinite  number  of  atoms  existing  from  all 
eternity  in  an  infinite  space,  and  continually  in  motion,  were  the 
elements  of  that  matter  of  which  the  universe  is  composed;  but 
this  universe,  thus  composed  of  atomical  or  indivisible  parts,  has 
subsisted  in  its  present  form  from  all  eternity  ;  and  ever  will  sub- 
sist. It  is,  therefore,  of  necessary  existence,  and  we  have  no  need 
to  resort  to  the  power  of  a  Creator  to  account  for  its  origin,  or  to 
the  wisdoin  of  a  Deity  for  its  maintenance  and  government.  But 
though  the  notion  of  a  Deity  did  not  enter  into  the  system  of  Epi- 
curus, to  any  active  effect,  he  did  not  deny  that  the  gods  might 
exist.  He  professed  even  to  teach  that  an  order  of  eternal  es- 
sences, clothed  with  a  species  of  body,  and  endowed  with  senses 


CII.    IX. J  GREEK  PUlI.OSOniV.  281 

for  the  perception  of  pleasure,  resided  in  some  superior  region  of  ilie 
universe,  where  they  enjoyed  a  serene  and  infinitely  happy  exist- 
ence, unalloyed  by  any  knowledge  or  perception  of  the  ati'airs  of 
this  material  world,  and  undisturbed  by  any  care  or  concern  for 
Its  inhabitants.  A  religious  creed,  which,  as  Cicero  well  observes, 
IS  but  a  mask  for  absolute  atheism,  and  which  its  author  could 
have  no  other  reason  for  propounding,  than  the  scr\ile  fear  of 
incurring  danger  from  the  open  avowal  of  impiety.* 

From  the  foregoing  brief  account  of  the  dilFerent  sects  or  schools 
of  philosophy  in  Greece,  I  shall  draw  only  two  reflections  :  The 
one  is,  that  with  a  very  few  exceptions,  and  more  particularly  that 
of  the  sect  last  mentioned,  an)idst  all  the  errors  incident  to  the 
mind  unenlightened  by  revealed  religion,  the  reason  of  mankind 
has,  in  all  ages,  looked  up  to  a  supreme,  intelligent,  and  omnipo- 
tent Being — the  Author  of  our  existence — the  Creator  and  the 
Governor  of  the  universe:  a  belief  which  forces  itself  upon  the  most 
uncultivated  underslanding,  and  which  the  advancf?ment  of  the  in- 
tellectual powers  tends  always  to  strengthen  and  confirm.  Tlie 
other  reflection  is,  that,  from  the  great  variety  and  opposition  of 
those  systems  which  we  have  enumerated  of  the  Greek  j)hili)so|jhers, 
we  may  perceive  among  that  ])eople  a  liberal 'spirit  of  toleration  in 
matters  of  opinion,  which  stoppecl  short  at  absolute  irreligion  and 
impiety  ;  and  a  freedom  of  judgment  in  all  matters  of  jihilosophical 
speculation,  which  did  honor  to  their  national  character,  and  the 
genius  of  their  legislative  systems.  If  the  Greek  philosophers  did 
not  attain  to  truth,  or  to  the  perfection  of  science,  they  had,  at  least, 
the  road  open  before  them  ;  and  their  errors  may  aflbrd  useful  in- 
struction to  the  moderns,  by  ascertaining  the  limits  of  the  mental 
powers  on  matters  of  abstract  speculation,  by  dispelling  prejudices, 
simplifying  the  objects  of  investigation  and  discovery,  and  bringing 
the  rational  and  candid  inquirer  nearer  to  the  ends  of  his  jiursuit. 


VOL.    I. 


Cic.  de  J\'at.  Dcor.  lib.  i.  in  fine. 

ft 


86 


BOOK    THE    THIRD. 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  Roman  History— Earliest  Periods  of  the  History  of  Rome— Etruscani — 
Foundation  of  Rome — Disputed  accounts  of— Romulus — Rape  of  the  Sabines — 
Origin  of  the  Political  Institutions  of  tlie  Romans— Union  with  the  SaLines — 
Numa  —  His  Institutions  —  Tullus  Hostihus  —  Ancus  Martius  —  Tarquiniua 
Priscus. 

Of  the  precise  era  when  the  country  of  Italy  was  peojiled,  we 
have  no  certain  accounts,  nor  any  thing  beyond  probable  conjec- 
ture. There  seem,  however,  good  grounds  to  believe  that  this 
peninsula,  enjoying  great  advantages  of  situation,  soil,  and  climate, 
was  very  early  a  populous  country,  and  inhabited  in  one  quarter 
even  by  a  refined  and  ])olished  nation,  many  ages  before  the  Roman 
name  was  known.  This  people  was  known  by  the  appellation 
of  Etrurians  or  Etruscans,  though  their  more  ancient  designation 
IS  said  to  have  been  Tyrrheni,  from  the  name  of  a  Lydian  prince 
who  brought  with  him  a  colony  of  his  countrymen  from  the  lesser 
Asia,  and  planted  that  part  of  Italy  afterwards  called  Etruria.  Of 
the  early  history  of  this  people  there  remain  but  a  few  detached 
and  obscure  traces  to  be  found  in  the  ancient  authors  ;  but  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that,  like  all  other  colonies,  their  progress  to 
civi'ization  was  much  more  rapid  than^hat  of  an  aboriginal  people, 
and  dial  the  Etruscans  were  in  a  very  advanced  state  of  improve- 
ment in  manners  and  the  arts,  while  the  surrounding  nat'ons  or 
tribes  in  the  centre  of  Italy  were  yet  extremely  barbarou'..  The 
Roman  historians  acknowledge  this  fact.  Livy  speaks  of  the 
Etruscans  as  a  great  and  opulent  people  in  Italy,  power'.u*  both  at 
land  and  sea,  before  the  origin  of  the  Roman  state.  Dioiivsius  ot 
Halicarnassus  deduces  most  of  the  religious  institutions  of  the 
Romans  from  Etruria.  Augury  and  divination,  which  were  essen- 
tial ingredients  in  most  of  their  ceremonies  and  mysteiies,  were 
certainly  derived  from  that  country,  as  probably  were  the  first 
dawnings  of  Roman  science  and  literature.  The  religion  of  the 
Etruscans  was  polytheism,  and  many  of  their  deities  were  com- 


CH     I.]  THE    ROMAN'S.  283 

mon  to  them  with  the  Greeks,  as  those  of  the  latter  will)  the 
divinities  of  the  Phoenicians  and  other  Asiatic  nations.  The  Ro- 
man theogony  can  easily  be  traced  to  those  origins.  The  Cahirian 
mysteries  of  the. Romans,  the  Mithriac  and  Acheronlic  ceremonies, 
were  all  immediately  derived  from  Etruria.  The  Etruscan  alpha- 
bet, nearly  that  of  the  Piujsnicians,  was  likewise  used  by  the 
Romans  in  the  early  ages  of  their  stale.  The  gradual  change  froiv 
this  ancient  alphabet  to  the  characters  used  by  the  Romans  in  the 
latter  periods,  may  be  distinctly  traced  by  the  series  of  imcriplioM 
yet  remaining. 

The  ancient  Etrurians  are  celebrated  for  their  knowledge  of 
astronomy,  which  countenances  the  notion  of  their  Adriatic  origin. 
They  had  successfully  cultivated  j)oetry  and  music.  Scenical 
representations  were  in  great  repute  among  them;  and  the  first 
comedians  who  appeared  at  Rome  were  brought  from  that  country, 
on  occasion  of  a  pestilence,  either  from  a  superstitious  idea  of 
appeasing  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  or  the  humbler,  though  not  less 
rational  motive  of  supporting  the  spirits  of  the  people  under  the 
general  calamity. 

It  is  probable  the  Etruscans  had  made  great  progress  m  tne 
fine  arts  of  sculpture  and  painting,  and  the  practice  of  these  arts 
presupposes  a  very  high  state  of  civilization.  The  elegance  of  the 
Etruscan  vases,  and  the  beautiful  painting  which  decorates  them, 
are  subjects  of  just  admiration  and  of  zealous  imitation  by  the 
moderns.  Of  this  art,  the  fabric  of  pottery,  the  ancient  authors 
agree  in  attributing  the  invention  to  this  peojjJe,*  and  none  other 
appears  ever  to  have  carried  it  to  so  high  a  pitch  of  perfection. 
Architecture,  engraving  of  precious  stones,  sculpture,  and  painting, 
were  of  high  antiquity  among  die  Etruscans  at  the  time  when  the 
Greeks  were  comparatively  in  a  state  of  barbarism.  The  Etrus- 
cans were  a  declining  people  at  the  time  of  the  foundation  of 
Rome,  though  possessing  many  relicks  of  their  ancient  grandeur, 
both  in  their  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  in  their  manners.  Tho 
Romans  were  mere  barbarians  ;  but  they  had  the  good  sense  to 
copy  after  and  adopt  many  improvements  from  their  polished 
neig'nbors. 

The  country  of  Etruria,  as  we  learn  from  Dionysius,  was  divided 
into  twelve  districts,  each  of  which  was  ruled  by  a  separate  chief, 
called  in  the  Etruscan  language  Lucumo.  Of  these  lucumones 
we  find  frequent  mention  in  Livy.  Each  had  a  sovereign  juris- 
diction in  his  |)rovince;  but  the  whole  were  united  in  a  confederacy, 
and  held  a  general  diet  or  council  on  all  occasions  in  wliich  the 
common    interest  was  concerned.      To    give    greater    efficacy  to 


•Tulianus,  in  his  nralion  to  tlif  Greoks,  in  which  he  rpprnachos  thorn  with 
their  vanity  in  altrihnling  to  thi-insflvt-s  thi»  invonlion  of  nil  art.^,  ntfirm*  fxni- 
tivolv  tiial  lh('  Ktrnscans  Uugiit  Ihi-ni  the  art  of  pottery  ;  demons  .MrxandriniM 
makes  the  same  assertion. 


28'i  UNivEnsAi,  iiisTouy.  [nooK  iii. 

this  union,  ii  a|)|)(;irs  iluit,  at  least  in  time  of  war,  the  whole  nation 
oboyiul  a  coiuinoii  chief,  who  was  elected  probably  by  the  whole 
of  the  Iiu'iimos.  Livy  informs  us  that  no  single  stale  could  engage 
in  war  or  conclude  peace  without  the  consent  of  th<j  wholi,'  Etrus- 
can body.  The  principal  towns  of  Elruria  were  Volscinii,  Clusium, 
Cortona,  Perusia,  Falerii,  Tarcpiinii,  and  Veil.  These,  with  sev- 
eral others  mentioned  by  Dionysius,  were  populous  and  [loinibhing 
states  before  the  common  era  of  the  foundat^n  of  Rome.* 

This  j)olished  people,  inhabiting  the  centre  of  Italy,  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  great  number  of  i)elty  nations,  who  seem  to  have 
been  in  a  state  little  removed  from  barbarism.  The  Unibrians, 
the  Ligurians,  the  Sabines,  the  Picentes,  the  Latins,  ajjpear  at  the 
time  of  the  supj^oscd  foundation  of  the  Roman  state  to  have  been 
a  set  of  independent  tribes,  who  were  engaged  in  constant  hostili- 
ties with  each  other.  The  territory  called  Latiu'm  extended  in 
length  about  fifty  miles,  and  in  breadth  about  sixteen.  It  con- 
tained no  less  than  forty-seven  independent  communities.  The 
odier  adjacent  provinces  were  divided  in  the  same  manner — a 
state  of  society  in  which  constant  warfare  is  unavoidable;  a  war- 
fare, however,  of  which  conquest  or  extension  of  power  is  not  the 
object,  but  which  ari-es  merely  from  the  spirit  of  plunder  and 
depredation.  Their  enterprises,  therefore,  were  limited  to  ravaging 
the  fields,  carryi.)g  off  the  flocks  and  herds,  destroying  the  harvest 
of  their  neighbors,  or  such  like  rude  and  barbarous  achievements. 
The  desire  of  conquest  has  no  place  in  such  a  state  of  society; — 
for  a  victory  can  never  be  pursued  or  the  conquered  territory  pre- 
served: as  the  whole  community  is  obliged  to  be  active  for  its 
subsistence,  and  agriculture  is  of  course  suspended  while  the  nation 
is  at  war,  the  soldier  must  quit  his  arms  for  the  plough  and  spade, 
for  a  lengthened  campaign  would  produce  a  famine.  It  is  only 
where  acquired  wealth  and  increased  population  can  afford  regular 
armies  of  professional  soldiers,  diat  conquests  can  be  prosecuted 
and  maintained.  The  Etruscans  seem  to  have  enjoyed  these 
advantages  over  all  the  bai'barous  nations  around  them,  and  con- 
sequently they  were  in  a  capacity  to  have  subdued  the  whole  of 


*Tlie  Etruscans  were,  like  their  Phoenician  ancestors,  a  maritime  and  mer- 
cantile people.  Hence  the  fable  invent<-d  bv  the  (Ireeks.  and  sunir  l)y  Ovid, 
that  the  Tvrrhenians  were  turned  into  dolphins.  They  colonized  all  along  th 
coast  of  hilly,  and  built  many  large  towns,  durintj  the  splendid  period  of  their 
history.  Gut  this  was  of  short  continuance.  A  dreadful  (x^stilence  and  famine, 
as  Dionvsius  informs  us,  (lib.  i.  c.  !•■>,  1(>.)  desohited  their  country  aliout  the 
period  of  the  Trojan  war.  These  calamities  were  recorded  in  a  poom  fmnd 
on  certain  tablets  of  brass,  called  the  Eugubine  Tables,  wliich  were  discovered 
A.  D.  14-1  J,  in  a  subtorraneous  vault  near  the  ancient  theatre  of  Isruvium  or 
Enpubiuni,  now  Gnbbio,  a  city  of  I'mbria.  The  poem  is  written  in  IVIasffian 
characteis  This  lamentation,  with  an  interpretation  by  M.  Gori,  m.iy  be 
found  in  "  Sir  William  Hamilton's  Etruscan  Antiquities  ;  "  and  it  is  inferred 
from  various  circumstances  to  \c  247  years  more  ancient  than  the  works  of 
Hesiod. 


CH.    I.]  THE   ETRUSCA.VS ORIGIN  OF  THE   ROMANS  236 

them;  but  their  genius  was  not  warlike:  they  were  fond  of  and 
cultivated  the  arts  of  peace;  and  though  occasionally  cnga^red  in 
hostilities  with  the  Romans,  they  apj)ear  never  to  have  armed  but 
when  attacked. 

The  gradual  increase  of  population  among  a  warlike  tribe  may 
enable  them  to  {^reserve  their  conquests,  either  by  garrisoning,  or 
by  transphmting  a  part  of  the  conquered  inhabitants  into  the  capi- 
tal, and  replacing  them  by  a  colony  of  citizens.  This  we  shall 
see  was  afterwards  the  policy  of  the  Romans,  and  thus  by  degrees 
they  extended  their  territory  and  increased  their  power.  But 
sometimes  a  flourishing  people  is  compelled  to  colonize,  from  an 
overgrowth  of  its  population.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  informs 
us  of  the  manner  in  which  a  state,  when  it  became  overstocked, 
transplanted  its  colonies.  They  consecrated  to  a  particular  sod 
all  the  yoiuh  of  a  certain  age,  furnished  them  with  arms,  and  after 
the  ])erformance  of  a  solemn  sacrifice,  dismissed  them  to  conquer 
for  themselves  a  new  country.  These  enterprises  were,  no  doubt, 
often  unsuccessful;  but  when  they  succeeded,  and  an  establish- 
ment was  obtained,  it  does  not  appear  that  the  mother  state  pre- 
tended to  have  any  rights  over  them,  or  claims  upon  the  countrj' 
where  they  settled. 

The  origin  of  the  Roman  state  is  involved  in  great  obscurity, 
and  various  accounts  are  given  of  the  foundation  of  that  illustrious 
city,  which  differ  not  only  as  to  the  time  of  its  structure,  but  in  all 
circumst^ces  concerning  it.  To  reconcile  in  some  degree  thr":e 
discrepancies,  it  is  the  notion  of  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  that 
*here  were  at  different  periods  several  cities  which  bore  the  name 
01*  Rome;  that  the  Rome  founded  some  time  after  the  Trojan 
war,  was  destroyed,  and  another  built  in  the  first  year  of  the 
seventh  Olympiad,  that  is,  7.52  b.  c;  nay,  he  pretends  to  find 
evidence  even  of  a  more  ancient  Rome  than  either  of  these,  but 
in  wliat  situation  or  period  of  time  he  does  not  determine.  Who- 
ever wishes  to  see  all  the  different  accounts  of  this  matter,  and  to 
be  convinced  how  litile  certainty  there  is  in  any  one  of  thorn,  may 
consult  the  learned  dissertations  of  M.  Pnnilly  and  of  the  Abb^ 
Sallier,  in  the  sixth  volume  of  the  J\femoircs  de  I '  Acadhnie  Set 
Inscriptions.  The  vulgar  and  generally  received  account  of  the 
foundation  of  Rome  by  Romulus  is  not  upon  the  whole  entitled  to 
any  degree  of  credit  superior  to  the  rest;  but  as  it  was  commonly 
adopted  by  the  Romans  themselves,  and  has  passed  current  down 
to  modern  times,  it  is  proper  to  be  acquainted  with  it,  whatever 
doubt  we  may  entertain  of  its  audienticiiy. 

Rome,  according  to  the  chronology  of  Archbishop  Usher,  was 
founded  752  years  before  the  Christian  era.  Romulus,  at  the 
head  of  a  troop  of  shepherds,  his  followers,  is  said  to  have  built 
a  few  huts  upon  the  Palatine  Hill,  in  a  part  of  the  territory  of 
Alba;  but  as  it  is  not  very  probable  that  shepherds  shouM  assem- 
ble to  the  number  of  3000,  it  is  natural  to  suppose  them  to  have 


28'i  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY  [noOK    IM 

bcoii  banditti  or  frecjbootfrs,  accustomed  to  waiul'T  and  to  ravage; 
and  llie  increase.'  of  tl)cir  nnnibers,  while  it  furnished  the  means, 
probably  snggosted  the  idea,  of  occupying  and  fortifying  an  inclosed 
territory  for  themselves.  To  strcngtiien  the  new  community,  and 
*to  fill  the  space  which  they  had  marked  out  for  their  city,  their 
chief  proclaimed  an  asylum  for  all  such  fugitives  and  descrtert 
from  the  neighboring  states  as  chose  to  put  themselves  under  his 
protection,  and  acknowledge  his  authority. 

Hitherto,  this  new  association  consisted  solely  of  men;  it  was 
necessary  they  should  provide  themselves  with  wonien.  The 
story  of  the  rape  of  the  Sabines  has  much  the  air  of  romance; 
though  it  derives  a  degree  of  credit  from  the  festival  of  the  Con- 
sualia,  instituted  in  honor  of  the  god  Cenms,  the  protector  of 
plots;  a  solemnity  which  was  always  believed  at  Rome  to  have 
commemorated  that  exploit.  Romulus  proclaimed  a  great  fes- 
tival and  games  in  honor  of  Neptune,  to  which  he  invited  all  the 
neighboring  states.  The  Sabines,*  Cecinians,  Crustumlnlans.  and 
Antemnates,  came  thither  in  great  troops.  The  plan  was  con- 
certed, and  at  a  certain  signal,  a  chosen  band  rushed  in  and  carried 
ofT  a  great  number  of  the  women.  The  Sabines,  and  the  nations 
in  their  alliance,  prepared  immediately  to  avenge  this  outrage; 
and  the  infant  commonwealth  of  Rome  was,  almost  at  the  moment 
of  its  formation,  at  war  with  all  its  neighbors. 

The  Roman  historians,  to  flatter  the  vanity  of  their  country- 
men, have  been  extremely  lavish  of  encomium  on  the  high  char- 
acter of  Romulus,  whom  they  paint  with  all  the  qualities  of  a 
consummate  politician  and  legislator.  But  if  even  the  Greeks,  at 
this  time  with  far  greater  advantages,  were  extremely  rude  and 
uncivilized,  what  ideas  can  we  form  of  the  people  of  Latlum,  and 
their  knowledge  of  the  arts  of  government  and  legislation?  There 
is  certainly  very  little  probability  that  a  troop  of  banditti  should  all 
at  once  assume  the  form  of  a  regular  political  structin-e,  or  that  a 
great  legislator  should  appear  in  the  person  of  a  freebooter,  or  of 
a  shepherd,  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  The  sounder  opinion  cer- 
tainly seems  to  be,  that  those  wise  and  politic  laws  and  institu- 
tions, commonly  ascribed  to  Romulus,  arose  gradually  from  ancient 
usages  and  a  state  of  manners  prevalent  in  Italy  before  the  foun- 
dation of  Rome. 

If,  however,  we  can  suppose  Romulus  to  have  been  in  fact  the 
founder  of  this  new  kingdom,  its  constitution  would  certainly  prove 
that  he  had  wise  and  politic  views.     He  knew,  in  the  first  place. 


*  The  Sabines  were  an  ancient  people  of  Italy,  situated  between  Etruria  and 
Latium.  Their  capital  was  Cura:,  in  the  territory  now  called  Corezze.  The 
inhabitants  of  Cecina,  Crustiiminitim,  and  AntemniE.  were  probably  eillier  snb- 
iects  or  allies  of  tiie  Sabine  state.  From  CMres,  the  capital  city  of  the  Sabines, 
the  Romans,  aAer  their  union  with  Uiat  people,  took  the  appellation  of  Curites  or 


CII.   I.]  ROMULUS.  287 

the  character  and  temperament  of  the  people  lie  governed,  and 
was  well  aware  that  then-  nidc  and  ferocious  spirit  would  not  hrook 
the  unlimited  autliority  of  a  despot.  It  was  iheref(jro  a  judicious 
plan  to  admit  the  p(H)ple  to  a  share  in  the  government. 

He  divided  the  mass  of  population  into  three  tribes,  and  each 
tribe  into  ten  curicc.  Of  the  lands  belonging  to  the  state,  he 
formed  three  great  portions  :  one  appropriated  to  the  support  of 
religion,  which  is  an  essential  instrument  of  good  government  ; 
another  destined  for  the  public  service  of  the  slate  ;  and  the  third 
he  distributed  (.'qually  among  the  thirty  curia?,  so  that  each  Roman 
citizfui  should  have  two  acres  of  land.  He  formed  a  sctuite  or 
council,  composed  of  a  hundred  of  the  ciders,  to  whom  he  gave 
power  to  see  the  laws  enforced,  to  consult  concerning  all  affairs  of 
state,  and  to  report  their  o|)inion  to  the  peoj)le  in  tiie  comitia  or 
assemblies,  who  were  invested  with  the  right  of  final  determination 
in  all  matters  of  public  importance. 

P^"om  these  first  senators  [centum  patreft)  chosen  by  Romulus, 
were  descended  those  families  at  Rome  termed  patrician  ;  so  that 
in  a  very  little  time  a  great  distinction  of  rank  arose  from  birth 
among  the  Romans. 

It  has  indeed  been  supposed  by  Dionysius,  that  the  distinction 
of  patricians  and  plebeians  was  anterior  to  the  formation  of  the 
isenate,  and  that  the  one  title  was  given  to  the  richer,  and  the 
other  to  the  poorer  class  of  citizens.  But  whence  can  we  suppose 
this  inequality  of  wealth  to  have  arisen,  when  the  same  author 
admits  that  there  was  an  equal  distribution  among  the  whole 
citizens  of  those  lands,  in  which  alone  their  wealth  could  con- 
sist.'' 

Although  Romulus  gave  great  weight  to  the  scale  of  the  peo- 
ple i  1  the  framing  of  this  new  government,  yet  lie  reserved  to 
him-. elf,  as  head  of  the  community,  very  ample  powers.  The 
deliberations  and  decrees  of  the  sei  ate  guided  the  resolutions  of 
the  j)eople,  and  the  king  had  the  prwerof  naming  all  the  senators. 
He  had  likewise  the  privilege  o.  assembling  the  people,  and  a 
right  of  appeal  lav  to  him  in  all  (jucstions  of  importance.  He  nad 
the  command  of  the  army,  which  at  first  comprehended  the  wi>ole 
ho  jy  of  the  people.  He  was  chief  priest,  too,  or  ponlifex  mnxi- 
lULj,  and  regulated  every  thing  that  concerned  or  was  '^vcn 
remotely  connected  with  religion  ;  and,  with  a  very  wise  [/o'*cy, 
he  took  care  that  all  that  regardcfl  the  rule  and  econoni;  cf  the 
state  was  so  connected. 

Romulus  chose  for  the  guard  of  his  person  twelve  lic.ors,  to 
whom  he  afterwards  joined  a  trooj)  of  .300  horsemen,  nan'.Cii  (.ehres. 
This  was  the  origin  of  the  rqtiitfft,  or  Roman  knight  ,  vho  be- 
came the  second  rank  in  the  slate  after  the  patricians.  Jh'roiM  the 
three  tribes  into  which  he  divided  the  people,  Romuii*:  scic  led 
from  each  trioe  a  hundred  of  the  handsomest  of  thf  yo-iil  of 
whom  he  formed  three  companies   of  cavalry.     This  7  "</  o    1^9 


288  UNivrusAi.  iiistouy.  [rook  mi 

cr/uitex  \v;is  aiicjinonfod  by  Tarr|iiii)iii«  Prisms  to  1800;  ai)d  in 
ihat  (iisliiliiilioii  of  tlio  citizens  which  \vt;  shall  aflcrwards  see  was 
made  by  Scrviiis  TiiHiiis,  these  eighter'ti  ceiilnrics  were  placed  in 
the  first  class.  These  cqnites  were  at  first  chosen  by  the  kings 
alone,  as  being  the  royal  life-guards  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  regal 
government,  being  now  a  rank  in  the  state,  the  consuls,  who  suc- 
ceeded to  almost  the  whole  of  the  regal  power,  filled  up  the  order 
of  equiles  as  they  did  that  of  the  senate.  In  succeeding  times, 
when  the  consuls  became  too  much  engrossed  in  military  concerns, 
the  function  of  supplying  both  those  orders  devolved  on  the  cen- 
sors, of  whose  office  I  shall  speak. more  particularly  when  arrived 
at  that  period  when  those  magistraies  were  first  instituted.  The 
marks  of  distinction  peculiar  to  the  order  of  knights  were  a  horse 
maintained  at  the  public  expense,  a  ring  of  gold,  and  a  garment 
with  a  narrow  border  of  purple,  called  angustm  clavn.i^  in  distinc- 
tion from  the  latus  claviis  of  the  senators,  which  had  a  broader 
border  of  J  urple.  It  was  reckoned  a  great  indecorum  for  a  knight 
to  appear  in  public  without  his  proper  badges.  The  duties  and 
fiinctions  of  the  equites  were  various  in  different  periods  of  the 
republic  :  they  were  at  first  only  a  military  order,  and  formed  the 
cavalry  of  the  Roman  legions ;  afterwards,  in  the  time  of  the 
gracchi,  we  find  them  a  class  of  civil  judges,  and  no  longer  a 
military  order.  Sylla  again,  in  his  arrangement  of  the  republic, 
deprived  the  equites  of  their  judicial  tribunals,  and  they  became 
the  financiers-general  of  the  revenues  of  the  state. 

If  many  of  those  institutions  we  have  mentioned  owed  their 
origin  to  the  political  talents  of  Romulus,  several  of  them  plainly 
appear  to  have  a  strong  conformity  with  the  general  usages  of  bar- 
barous nations  ;  and  others,  which  argue  a  more  refined  policy, 
were  borrowed,  in  all  probability,  from  the  Etruscans  :  such  in 
particular  were  those  connected  with  religion. 

The  religion  of  ancient  Italy  was  probably  near  akin  to  that  of 
the  Greeks  ;  though  Dionysius  tells  us  that  the  early  religious 
institutions  of  the  Roinans  were  not  contaminated  with  those  fables 
which  disgraced  the  Greek  theogony.  The  most  scnipulous  ob- 
servance of  omens  and  presages  seems  to  have  been  the  chief 
foundation  of  their  sacred  rites,  and  in  this  superstition  they  went 
far  beyond  the  Greeks.  Now  divination  we  know  with  some  cer- 
tainty to  have  been  adopted  by  the  Romans  from  the  Etruscans. 
Among  that  people  every  thing  was  construed  into  a  presage  ; 
not  only  the  extraordinary  phenomena  of  nature,  as  thunder, 
'lightning,  the  aurora  borealis,  or  the  like,  but  the  most  insignifi- 
cant actions  or  accidents,  such  as  sneezing,  meeting  with  an  animal, 
slipping  a  foot,  or  any  of  the  most  common  occurrences  of  life. 
Among  an  ignorant  and  rude  nation  every  thing  is  attributed  to  a 
supernatural  agency  ;  but  the  Etrurians  were  not  a  rude  nation, 
and  therefore  we  can  assign  this  natural  propensity  only  to  their 
love  of  those  national  habits  which  they  had  derived  from  a  remote 


-H.   I.]  ALGURS  289 

antiquity.  To  a  siiperstitioirs  people,  when  presages  do  not  ofTer 
of  themselves,  it  is  a  very  natural  step  to  go  and  seek  them.  The 
sacrifice  of  victims  presented  often  diilorent  appearances,  accord- 
ing to  the  accidental  state  of  the  animal  at  the  time  it  was  killed. 
The  priests  employed  in  the  sacrifice,  heing  best  acquainted  with 
those  appearances,  are  naturally  consulted  as  to  their  interpreta- 
tion. Thus  they  acquire  the  reputation  of  superior  wisdom  and 
foresight,  and  the  augur  and  aruspex  become  an  established  pro- 
fession. Where  a  society  is  once  formed,  it  becomes  interested 
to  support  itself;  the  trade  is  found  lucrative,  and  the  science  of 
course  is  studiously  made  intricate  and  obscure,  to  exclude  die 
attempts  of  uninitiated  pretenders. 

As  bad  omens  presented  themselves  frequently  as  well  as  good, 
it  became  a  desirable  object  of  science  to  know  how  to  avert  the 
effect  of  the  latter,  and  to  convert  them  into  presages  of  good 
fortune.  The  augurs  pretended  that  they  possessed  this  valuable 
secret,  which  gave  them  still  greater  influence  over  the  minds  of 
the  people.  This  effect  they  produced  by  expiations,  which  thus 
became  an  essential  branch  of  religious  ceremonies.  Gradually, 
as  die  art  advanced,  a  particular  set  of  ceremonies  was  appro- 
priated to  particular  occasions.  Thus,  for  example,  at  the  foun- 
dation of  a  city,  the  priests  and  all  employed  in  the  ceremony  first 
purified  themselves  by  leaping  over  a  fire.  Then  they  made  a 
iircular  excavation,  into  which  they  threw  the  first  fruits  of  the 
season,  and  some  Iwndfulls  of  earth  brought  from  the  native  city 
by  the  founders.  The  entrails  of  victims  were  next  consulted, 
and  if  fevorable,  they  proceeded  to  trace  the  limits  of  the  town 
with  a  line  of  chalk.  This  track  they  then  marked  by  a  Autow, 
with  a  plough  drawn  by  a  white  bull  and  heifer. .  It  was  not 
anciently  the  custom  to  surround  the  city  with  walls,  but  the 
limits  were  defended  by  towers,  placed  at  regular  intervals.  In 
after  times,  however,  the  practice  became  couHnc>n  of  fortifying 
the  city  by  a  wall.  The  ceremony  was  concluded  by  a  great 
sacrifice  to  the  tutelar  gods  of  the  city,  who  wore  solemnly 
invoked.  These  gods  were  termed  Palrii  and  Indigeles,  but 
their  particular  names  were  concealed  with  the  most  anxious 
caution  from  the  knowledge  of  the  people.  It  was  a  very  pre- 
valent superstitious  Ix'lief  that  no  city  could  be  taken  or  destroved 
till  its  tutelar  gods  al)andoned  it.  Hence  it  was  the  first  care  of  a 
besieging  enemy  to  evoke  the  gods  of  the  ciiy  or  entice  them  out 
by  ceremonies,  by  promising  tiiem  sujierior  temples  and  festivals, 
and  a  more  respcctfiil  worship  than  they  had  hitherto  enjnved  ; 
but  in  order  to  accomplish  this  evocation,  it  was  necessary  to  loam 
the  particular  names  of  the  deities,  which  every  people  therefore 
was  interested  to  keep  secret. 

As  all  the  superstitions  we  have  mentioned  were  common  lo  the 
nations   of  ftnlv   before  the   buildin;;  of  Rome,    it  was   pxtrrmely 
natural  that  ihry  should  be  adopted  as  part  of  its  theoI(ig\-. 
VOL.    I.  37 


290  U.NIVKRSAL    IIlSTOIiy.  [book     III. 

Ill  Ireatiiii^  formerly  of  the  Spartan  constitution,  I  have  remark- 
ed the  error  of  those  theories  which  attemj)t  to  trace  all  jmlitical 
institutions  whatever  up  to  the  manners  of  a  savage  state  ;  or  the 
belief  that  all  forms  of  government,  and,  hy  the  same  rule,  all  the 
revolutions  of  those  governments,  are  the  result  of  the  natural  pro- 
gress of  mankind  in  society.  The  most  limited  knowledge  of 
history  gives  us  certain  proof  of  many  |)olitical  systems  being  the 
operation  of  the  genius  of  individual  lawgivers.  If  we  doubt  as 
to  the  institutions  of  Lycurgus,  of  Charlemagne,  or  of  Alfred, 
being  as  perfect  as  history  has  painted  them,  skepticism  itself  can- 
not refuse  the  instances  of  William  Penn  and  of  Peter  the  Great, 
any  more  than  those  stupendous  experiments  in  government  and 
legislauon  which  our  own  age  has  witnessed. 

But  as  to  Romulus,  we  readily  allow  that  the  great  outlines  of 
his  constitution  have  their  model  in  the  manners  and  usages  of  a 
semi-barbarous  people.  The  pairia  potestas  of  the  Romans,  or 
the  sovereign  power  which  every  father  of  a  family  enjoyed  over 
his  household,  may  be  plainly  traced  up  to  the  manners  of  barba- 
rians. So  likewise  many  of  the  early  laws  of  the  Romans  were 
the  necessary  result  of  their  situation.  Such,  for  example,  was 
that  law  which  confined  the  practice  of  all  mechanic  arts  to  the 
slaves ;  for  all  the  free  citizens  must  either  have  been  employed 
in  warfare  or  in  the  culture  of  their  fields. 

But  other  institutions  bear  the  stamp  of  political  knowledge 
and  enlargement  of  ideas.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the  Client  la,  or 
the  connection  of  patrons  and  clients.  To  maintain  a  just  subor- 
dination, and  at  the  same  time  a  mutual  good  understanding  between 
the  patrician  order  and  the  plebeians,  every  plebeian  was  allowed 
to  clioose  a  senator  for  his  patron,  whose  duty  it  was  to  defend  and 
|)rotect  him  ;  and  he  in  his  turn  received  from  his  clients,  not  only 
homage,  but  su|)port  and  assistance  in  all  cases  where  his  interest 
required  it. 

Notwithstanding  the  excellency  of  this  political  arrangement, 
die  enemies  which  the  infant  state  of  Rome  had  raised  up  among 
the  neighboring  nations  of  Italy  would  Iwve  been  too  powerful 
for  her,  if  they  had  followed  any  united  plan  or  general  measures. 
The  rape  of  the  Sabine  women  had  exasperated  all  around  them  ; 
but  as  each  nation,  instead  of  uniting,  attempted  to  pursue  a  sep- 
arate plan  of  revenge,  they  were  all  successively  defeated.  The 
town  of  Cennina  was  destroyed,  and  its  inhabitants  transplanted 
to  Rome.  The  Crustumenians,  in  like  manner,  contributed  to 
increase  the  victorious  city;  though  Romulus  chose  likewise  to 
preserve  their  own  city,  and  to  establish  a  colony  in  it,  thus  gain- 
ing a  double  advantage.  The  Sabine  nation  was  tlie  most  formi- 
dable of  their  enemies.  In  one  successful  assault  upon  the  city, 
they  had  penetrated  as  far  as  the  Tarpeian  hill,  and  a  most  obsti- 
nate conflict  was  maintained  in  the  very  heart  of  Rome,  when 
tlie  Sabinp  women,  the  cause  of  the  war,  threw  themselves  in  bp 


Cfl.    I.]  TATIUS ROMULUS.  291 

fween  the  contending  parties,  and  became  the  mediators  between 
their  husbands,  and  their  faiiiers  and  brethren.  Tlieir  influence 
prevailed  ;  a  peace  was  concluded,  and  the  two  nations  nsreed 
henceforih  to  become  one  people.*  Tatius,  kints;  of  the  Sabines, 
was  associated  with  Ronuilns  in  the  government  :  a  most  wisR 
and  politic  measure,  which  relieved  Rome  at  once  of  her  most  for- 
midable enemy,  and  greatly  increased  her  strength  and  j)0|)ulation. 
Thus,  in  a  very  few  years  from  the  period  of  her  foundation,  Rome 
was  able  to  make  head  against  the  most  powerful  of  tiie  nations  of 
Italy. 

Tatius  did  not  long  enjoy  his  dignity.  He  was  killed  a  few 
years  afterwards  at  La\inium,  and  RomuKis  remained  sole  mon- 
arch of  the  united  ])eo|>le.  He  made  war  against  the  Veientes 
with  success,  and  subdued  several  of  the  states  of  Latium  :  but 
liaving  disobliged  his  soldiers  in  the  distribution  of  the  conquered 
lands,  and  some  of  the  |)rinci|)al  senators  becoming  jealous  of  his 
power,  a  conspiracy  was  formed  against  him,  and  he  fell  a  victim 
to  treason,  in  the  thirty-seventh  year  of  his  reign.  A  violent 
storm  of  thunder  happening  at  the  time,  favored  the  report  spread 
by  the  conspirators,  that  he  was  killed  by  lightning  ;  and  the  peo- 
ple, who  revered  his  memory,  enrolled  him  among  the  number  of 
their  deities,  by  the  title  of  Qiiirinus.f 

As  Romulus  left  no  children,  the  people  jud^ied  the  crown 
elective,  and  the  question  was  whom  to  choose.  The  Sabines 
claimed  an  equal  right  with  the  Romans  ;  and,  there  being  much 
discordance  of  opinion,  the  senate,  which  was  composed  equally 
of  both  nations,  laid  claim  to  the  sovereignty,  and  dividing  them- 
selves into  Decurire,  it  was  agreed  that  each  decuria  should  reign 
fifty  days,  or  each  senator  five  days, — an  arrangement  which  it 
was  easy  to  see  could  not  be  permanent.  The  people  suhmiited 
to  it  for  a  year,  but  at  the  end  of  that  period  declared  their  resolu- 
tion to  have  a  sovereign  for  life.  It  was  agreed  that  the  senators 
of  the  Roman  party  should  have  the  ri.:ht  of  electing,  but  that 
the  choice  should  fall  upon  a  Sabine.  Numa,  the  son-in-law  of 
Tatius,  a  luan  of  a  recluse  ami  reserved  disposition,  but  of  great 
reputation  for  wisdom  and  probity,  was  chosen  king  ;  and  after  a 
solemn  consultation  of  the  g<i(ls  by  the  augurs  and  aruspices,  was 
publicly  invested  with  the  regal  insignia  and  aulhority. 

Dionysius  of  Ilalicarnassus  has  represented  Numa  as  a  wise 
and  most  intelligent  prince  :  others  have  disputed  that  character, 
on  this  extraordinary  ground,  that  when  the  books  of  Numa  were 


"  In  honor  of  this  rvcnl,  a  solemn  annual  festival  was  hi'hi  at  Ilonic  on  tlic 
first  day  of  March,  callod  .Mutronulia.  It  is  to  lliis  solemnity  that  Horace 
alludes  m  his  ode,  Marliis  rwlchs  quid  it^am  Culendis,  «&c. 

f  ('ontemporarv  with  Rorniiliis  was  Mczekiali,  \\\c  tenth  kinjj  of  Jiidnh  ; 
an*  Salmanazar,  who  took  Samaria,  and  |)iit  an  end  ••'  liie  kingdoni  i>f  lartel, 
by  cairying  the  ttn  tribes  into   ca])tivity. 


292  UNIVr.RSAL    IIISTORV  [kOOK   III 

accidontiiUy  discovered  at  Rome,  after  a  la|)so  of  six  centuries,  the 
senate  ordered  tliein  to  be  destroyed,  as  containing  nothing  which, 
in  their  judgment,  could  be  useful,  and  much  that  might  be  of 
j)rt'JMdic(;  to  the  state.  But  this  fact  certainly  warrants  no  infer- 
ence unfavoraljle  to  the  character  or  to  the  talents  of  Nurna.  The 
political  vievvs  and  regulations  of  that  |)rince  might  be  extremely 
wise,  and  well  adapted  to  the  age  in  which  ho  lived,  and  at  the 
same  time  quite  unsuitable  to  the  spirit  of  the  Roman  constitution 
six  centuries  after  him. 

Numa  was  of  a  pacific  turn,  and  be  seems  to  have  aimed  at  giv 
ing  his  people  the  same  character.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
this  j)olicy  were  altogether  wise  in  the  situation  in  which  the  Ro- 
mans stood  with  respect  to  their  neighbors.  The  king  pretended 
to  enjoy  a  divine  Inspiration,  and  feigned  that  he  was  indulged  in 
nightly  conferences  with  the  nymph  Egeria,  who  dictated  all  those 
public  measures  which  he  proj)osed.  He  multiplied  the  national 
gods,  built  new  temples,  and  instituted  a  great  variety  of  religious 
ceremonies,  of  the  most  remarkable  of  which  it  is  necessary,  for 
the  proper  intelligence  of  the  Roman  history,  that  some  short 
account  should  here  be  given. 

A  custom  then  prevailed  in  Italy,  by  which  every  state,  before 
going  to  war,  was  in  use  to  determine  whether  the  cause  of  the 
war  were  just  or  unjust.  When  a  quarrel  arose  between  one  state 
and  another,  certain  heralds,  named  Fecialcs,  were  despatched  by 
the  state  which  deemed  itself  injured  to  the  aggressor,  who  pub- 
licly proclaimed  the  cause  of  offence,  and  demanded  reparation  of 
the  injury.  If  the  aggressor  hesitated,  ten  days  were  allowed  for 
deliberation,  and  that  term  was  three  times  renewed.  If  at  the 
end  of  that  period  justice  was  not  done,  the  Feciales  took  the  gods 
to  witness  of  the  wrong  committed,  and  returned  to  their  own  city. 
War  was  then  solemnly  proclaimed,  but  was  not  commenced  till 
one  of  the  Feciales  walked  to  the  frontier,  and  threw  a  bloody 
javelin  as  a  signal. 

This  custom  shows  that  the  petty  nations  of  Italy,  barbarous  as 
ihey  were,  had  just  notions  of  the  blessings  of  a  pacific  govern- 
ment. Numa  adopted  the  custom,  and  instituted  at  Rome  a  col- 
lege of  Feciales.  He  built,  likewise,  a  temple  to  Janus,  which 
was  kept  open  during  war,  and  shut  during  peace.  Most  of  the 
institutions  of  this  prince  were  calculated  to  encourage  the  pacific 
spirit  ;  but  this  was  not  the  tendency  of  his  people,  and  their 
character  soon  became  quite  the  reverse.  A  great  part  of  Numa's 
policy  consisted  in  using  religion  as  an  instrument  of  government.* 


*  Yet  the  religion  of  Numa,  accordinor  to  Plularch's  account,  was  of  a 
rational  character,  and  quite  remote  from  the  superstitions  of  the  vulgar.  "  lie 
forbade  the  Romans,"  sa_vs  that  author,  "  to  represent  the  Deity  in  the  form  of 
man,  or  of  any  animal,  nor  was  there  any  sculptured  effiiry  of  the  gods  admit 
ted  in  those  early  times.     During   die  first  one   hundred  and    si.Nty  years,  they 


CH.    I.]  NUMA.  2'J3 

He  instituted  a  college  of  priests  called  Flamines,  from  the  flame- 
colored  tufts  upon  their  caps.*  Each  flamen  was  confined  to  ihe 
worsliip  of  a  particular  god;  and  Romulus,  now  deified,  had  his 
flamen,  as  well  as  Jupiter  and  Mars.  A  sacred  buckler,  or  ancile, 
which  was  said  to  have  dropped  from  heaven,  gave  occasion  like- 
wise to  the  foundation  of  a  new  college  of  priests,  who  had  the 
charge  of  it,  and  paraded  with  it,  on  particular  occasions,  in  a  kind 
of  dance  or  procession.  These  were  called  Salii  (a  saliendo); 
and,  lest  the  sacred  buckler  should  be  stolen  or  lost,  eleven  others 
were  made,  exactly  resembling  it,  and  deposited  in  the  temple  of 
Jupiter. I 

The  veneration  o^  fire  was  a  superstition  common,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  several  of  the  ancient  nations.  The  custom  of  preserving 
this  element  continually  burning  was  religiously  observed  among 
the  nations  of  Italy,  as  among  their  eastern  progenitors.  Numa 
found  this  custom  among  tlie  people  of  Alba;  and  introducing  it 
among  the  Romans,  he  built  a  temple  consecrated  to  Vesta,  and 
appointed  four  virgins  to  attend  her  worship  and  to  preserve  the 
sacred  fire.  They  took  a  vow  of  perpetual  virginity,  and  were 
buried  alive  if  they  broke  it.  A  punishment  of  this  kind  was  ex- 
tremely rare;  but  when  it  occurred  it  was  a  day  of  mourning  to 
all  the  citizens.  The  ignominy  of  the  crime  was  thought  to  aliect 
all  die  relations  of  the  criminal;  and  it  was  no  wonder  that,  when 
a  new  vestal  came  to  be  chosen,  every  father  dreaded  lest  the 
choice  should  fall  upon  his  daughter.  On  the  other  hand,  these 
sacred  virgins  enjoyed  very  high  privileges.  They  were  superior 
in  sanctity  of  character  to  all  the  priests,  and  in  some  respects 
even  controlled  the  laws  of  their  country.  A  vestal  could  save  a 
criminal  going  to  execution,  provided  she  gave  her  word  tliat  she 
had  met  him  only  accidentally.  It  was  customary  for  individuals 
to  make  large  donations  to  vestals,  from  motives  of  piety,  or  to 
leave  them  great  legacies;  and  thus  they  often  accumulated  much 
wealth. 

Numa  is  celebrated  for  a  reformation  of  the  Roman  calendar, 
which.  It  is   said,  made  the  year,  before  his  time,  consist  only  of 


built  temples  and  shrinns,  but  inado  no  imairrg;  judjrinij  it  impious  to  roprpsont 
tiip  most  excpllpnt  of  Bfinjfs  by  lliiii;js  base  and  \in\vorlbv,  since  there  is  no 
aices:  t  >  tiie  Divinity  but  (jy^tiic  niind,  elevated  and  purified  by  divine  contcm- 
p  atiou." 

•  Plutarch  supposes  the  word  fnmcn  a  cnrruptinn  of  plhimrn.  from  pileus.  n 
cap  There  were  at  first  only  three  Flamines,  Flunicn  Dialis,  Murtialis,  and 
Quirintilis. 

f  Tlie  S/ilii  were  oritrinallv  twelve  in  number;  hut  Tullus  Hoslilius,  the 
successor  of  Numa,  added  other  twelve.  Those  first  instituted  were  called 
Salli  I'.ilalini,  from  the  Palatine  Hill,  where  thev  becjan  their  processions:  the 
latter  were  termed  Collini,  or  Affonenses,  from  the  Collis  Q«i>in/i/i.<,  otherwise" 
called  Airiirt'ilis.  where  they  had  a  cha|iel.  Their  endowments  were  L'rent.  and 
their  entertainments  costly  ;  whence  the  phrase  Dapcs  Shiliurci  ts  used  by  Horace 
for  delicate  meals,  lib.  i.  O.  37. 


294  UNIVKIISAL  insTOUY.  [book    III 

len  inoiilhs,  of  various  lengths;  some  of  tlicin,  according  lo  Plu- 
tarch, consisting  of  twenty  days,  some  of  thirty-five,  and  some  of 
a  greater  nun)ber.  Numa  added  lo  the  year  the  months  of  Janu- 
ary and  February,  assigning  to  each  month  the  nimiher  of  days  of 
which  it  consists  at  i)resent.  February  being  the  most  deficient, 
was  always  reckoned  an  unlucky  mondi.  lie  distinguished  like- 
wise certain  days  as  Fasti  and  JSTefasli;  on  the  former  of  which 
t  was  lawful  to  follow  all  civil  occupations,  while  nothing  of  that 
sort  was  allowed  on  the  latter  except  agriculture,  which  thence 
seems  most  wisely  to  have  been  regarded  in  a  religious  point  of 
view.  From  this  distinction  of  Dies  Fasti  et  c-\>/a.9/f,  the  calen- 
dar itself  took  the  name  of  Fasti^  or  annals.  It  was  the  office  of 
the  Pontifex  Maximus  lo  record  in  the  Fasti  the  events  of  each 
year. 

Numa  died  after  a  reign  of  forty-three  years,  during  the  whole 
of  which  time  the  temple  of  Janu^  remained  shut;  so  much 
does  the  disposition  of  a  people  de])end  on  the  character  of  a 
sovereign.* 

After  a  sliort  interregnum,  Tullus  Hostillus  was  elected  to  the 
throne  by  the  people,  and  confirmed  by  the  voice  of  the  senate. 
This  prince,  of  a  very  opposite  character  from  his  predecessor,  paid 
little  regard  to  his  religious  and  pacific  institutions.  The  temple 
of  Janus  was  opened,  and  was  not  shut  during  his  whole  reign. 
He  was  victorious  over  the  Albani,  Fidenates,  and  several  of  the 
other  neighboring  slates.  In  the  war  with  the  Albani  happcnpd 
the  celebrated  combat  between  the  three  Horatii  and  Curiaiii,  in 
which  the  issue  of  the  contest  was  determined  in  favor  of  the 
Romans,  by  the  courage  and  ))olicy  of  the  surviving  Horatius. 
The  victor,  returning  to  Rome  laden  with  the  spoils  of  the  \an- 
quished,  was  met  by  his  sister,  the  destined  spouse  of  one  of  the 
Curiatii.  On  seeing  the  spoils  of  her  dead  lover,  she  vented  her 
grief  and  indignation  in  such  violent  terms,  that  her  brother  put 
her  to  death.  "  Be  gone,"  said  he,  "  to  thy  lover,  and  carry 
with  diee  that  degenerate  passion  which  makes  thee  prefer  a  dead 
enemy  to  the  glory  of  thy  country."  The  offender  was  brought 
before  the  duumviri,  two  criminal  judges  appointed  by  Tullus, 
and  was  by  them  condemned  to  death.  By  the  advice  of  Tullus, 
he  appealed  lo  the  assembly  of  the  people,  who,  in  compassion  to 
the  dellverei"  of  his  country,  commuted  his  punishment  to  passing 
under  the  yoke,  and  at  the  same  lime  decreed  him  a  tropliy.  This 
incident  shows  one  fact  of  importance,  namely,  that  the  jiowcr  of 
the  people  had  at  this  time  become  paramount  to  that  of  the 
prince,  and  that  the  government  truly  lay  in  the  joint  concurrence 
of  the  regal  authority  with  that  of  the  several  orders  of  the  state. 


"Contemporary  with  Nnma,  was  Sennacherib,  kinir  of  Assyria,  and  Esarhart 
don,  wlio  muted  the  kingdoms  of  Assyria  and  Babylon. 


CH.   I.J  ANGUS    MARTIUS.  295 

Under  ihe  reign  of  Tiilkis,  as  we  find  the  Romans  at  war  with 
the  Sabines,  it  appears  that  the  union  of  the  two  nations  was  by 
iliis  time  dissolved;  and,  henceforward,  we  find  the  Sabines  classed 
am.ong  those  of  the  neighboring  states  with  whom  the  Romans 
carried  on  constant  hostilities. 

The  neglect  of  religion  during  the  reign  of  Tiillus  is  said  to  have 
excited  the  vengeance  of  the  gods,  who  punished  the  Romans  by 
a  severe  pestilence.  The  king  himself  was  seized  widi  it,  and 
became  as  pious  as  his  predecessor ;  but  his  repentance  was  too 
late,  for  he  was  killed  by  thunder,  or  as  some  authors  report,  by  a 
fire  in  the  city,  after  a  reign  of  thirtv-three  years. 

Ancus  Martins,  of  Sabine  extraction,  was  elected  king  in  his 
place.  lie  was,  bv  his  mother,  2;randsoii  to  Nunia;  and  partook 
somewhat  of  his  disposition.  He  bent  all  his  aiteniiou  to  the 
♦■evival  of  the  religious  observances  of  his  ancestor;  but  the  Latins 
obliged  him  to  take  up  arms.  The  Romans  were  victorious,  and 
took  several  of  the  enemy's  towns,  transporting  the  inhabitants  to 
Rome,  of  which  it  became  necessary  to  enlarge  the  bounds  beyond 
the  Aventine  Mount.  Ancus  pushed  his  conquests  along  the 
banks  of  the  Tiber,  to  its  mouth,  where  he  built  the  city  and  [)ori 
of  Ostia.  He  fortified  a  small  ennnence  opposite  to  Rome,  on 
the  '.vestern  b^ide  of  the  Tiber,  which  was  called  Janiculum,  and 
communicated  with  the  city-  by  a  bridge,  which  the  priests  iiad 
the  charge  of  supporting  and  repairing;  and  thence  they  are  said 
to  have  derived  their  name  of  Pontiftces.* 

Ancus  died  after  a  reign  of  twenty-four  years.  During  his 
time,  Lucius  Tarquinius,  surnamed  PnVr».f,  a  native  of  Tarqninii 
m  Etruria,  and  son  of  a  rich  citizen  of  Corinth,  had  come  to 
Rome.  He  was  a  man  of  great  address,  and  gained  the  favor 
both  of  the  king  and  people;  so  that  when  the  ihrcMie  became 
vacant,  he  was  chosen  the  successor  of  Ancus  ;  a  proof  that  the 
throne  was  considered  as  elective ;  for  Ancus  Martins  had  left  two 
sons. 

The  senate,  as  first  constituted  bv  Romulus,  consisted,  as  we 
liave  seen,  of  one  hundred  members.  To  this  original  number, 
from  whom  alone  the  jjatrician  familii^s  claimed  their  descent, 
Romulus  afterwards  added  anothiM"  hundred.  Tarquiniiis,  who 
owed  his  election  to  the  favor  of  some  of  the  principal  citizens, 
rewarded  their  services  by  adding  a  hundred  new  members  to  the 
senate,  chosen  from  the  plebeian  order. f  It  remained  at  the 
number  of  300  for  several  centm-ies,   down  to  the  period  of  the 


*  Conlompnrnry  svilli  Anriis  Martins  wtrc  nraro,  llio  Allifiiinn  loijislator ; 
Perian(l(>r,  tyrant  of  Corinlli ;  and  Nal>op(ila.ssar,  kinij  of  HaliNlon,  fatluT  to 
Nebiicliadiiezzar. 

t  Tliese  now  srnators  wero  torinod  PatrfS  tninorum  rtntium  :  but  this  dm 
tinclion  was  lost  in  process  of  time,  and  all  wore  ri'jjardfd  as  i-(jual  in  {wint  ot 
rank. 


296  UNIVKRSAr,   history.  [liOOK    III 

Gracclii,  wlicii  ii  was  enlarged  to  GOO.  I  .slialf  li;ive  occasion 
afterwards  to  treat  more  particularly  of  the  constitution  of  this 
body. 

Rome  was  now  gradually  ad\ancing  in  pf)|)Mlation  and  powei  ; 
but  her  progress  was  not  so  rapid  as  to  alarm  the  other  states  of 
Italy.  In  tiic  time  of  the  elder  Tarqnin  there  were  frequent  wars 
with  the  Sabines,  Latins,  and  Etruscans,  which  generally  termi- 
nated to  the  advantage*  of  the  Romans  ;  but  the  vanquished 
nations  were  always  very  speedily  in  a  condition  to  renew  hostili- 
ties. 

The  city  itself  was  increasing  very  much  in  extent  and  magnifi- 
cence. Tarquin  caused  the  walls  to  be  built  of  hewn  stone  ;  he 
surrounded  the  forum  with  a  covered  corridore  or  arcades  of  pil- 
lars ;  he  built  the  Circus  Maximus,  or  Hipjiodrome,  for  the  cele- 
bration of  public  games,  for  races  and  athletic  exercises.  This 
building  was  situated  between  the  Aventine  and  Palatine  hills.  It 
was  enlarged  and  embellished  at  different  times;  and  in  the  age  of 
the  elder  Pliny,  was  capable  of  containing  200,000  spectators,  all 
seated.  Tarquinius  Priscus  likew^ise  constructed  the  cloacce^  those 
amazing  drains  or  common  sewers,  which  remain  to  this  day  the 
wonder  of  all  who  view  them.  The  cloaca  maxima  is  sixteen  feet 
in  width,  thirteen  in  depth,  and  of  hewn  stone  arched  over. 
Works  of  this  kind  would  seem  to  lead  to  the  belief  of  a  prodigious 
increase  of  this  city  in  size  and  population,  when  such  immense 
structures  were  formed  within  the  period  of  150  years  from  its 
foundation.  But  these  appearances  certainly  afford  rational  ground 
for  a  different  conclusion  or  conjecture.  The  immensity  of  those 
cloacae,  so  unsuitable  to  such  a  city  as  we  must  suppose  Rome  to 
have  been  in  the  days  of  the  elder  Tarquin  (for  Livy  acknowledges 
that  they  were  judged  unsuitable,  from  their  large  size,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  the  city,  even  in  his  time,)  naturally  induces  a  suspicion, 
that  those  works  were  the  remains  of  a  more  ancient  and  much 
more  splendid  city,  on  the  ruins  of  which  the  followers  of  Romulus 
had  chosen  to  settle.  The  like  we  know  to  have  taken  place  in 
different  parts  of  Asia,  where  several  of  the  greatest  cities  of  an- 
tiquity, after  they  had  gone  to  decay,  and  been  for  ages  desolate 
and  uninhabited,  iiave  revived  after  a  period  of  many  centuries, 
and  from  villages  grafted  on  their  ruins,  have  become  pretty  con 
siderable  towns,  though  far  inferior  to  their  ancient  size  and  mag 
uificence.  Were  we  here  to  offer  a  conjecture,  it  would  be,  that 
the  foundation  of  Rome  is  to  be  carried  back  many  ages  beyond 
the  commonly  received  era,  and  that  this  city  had  ancientlv  been 
the  residence  of  a  part  of  that  great  and  polished  nation,  the 
Etruscans. 

Tarquin,  during  some  of  his  wars,  had  vowed  to  erect  a  temple 
to  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  Minerva  ;  but  he  lived  only  to  see  the  work 
begun.  In  disjging  for  the  foundation  of  this  structure,  on  the  top 
of  the    Tarpcian    hill,  the    skull    of  a    man  was    found; — a  very 


'-"■     ".]  SERVIUS    TUI.LIUS.  2D7 

ordinary  occurrence,  but  which  the  augurs  declared  to  be  a  presage 
that  Rome  was  one  day  to  become  the  head,  or  mistress  of  tiie 
universe.  Tlie  new  temple  was  from  this  incident  called  CapilO' 
Hum.  If  the  anecdote  is  true,  it  shows  how  cafly  the  Romans 
entertained  views  of  empire  and  dominion. 

Tarquin  had  adopted  a  young  man,  Servius,  the  son  of  a  female 
captive,  and  had  given  him  his  daughter  in  n»arriage.  lie  was  a 
youth  of  talents,  and  soon  gained  the  esteem  both  of  the  senators 
and  j)eople ;  so  that  there  was  every  j)rospect  of  his  succeeding  to 
the  throne  upon  the  death  of  his  father-in-law.  Two  sons  of 
Ancus  Martins  were  yet  alive,  who  naturally  looked  likewise  to- 
wards that  dignity,  to  wiiich  they  endeavored  to  j)ave  the  way 
by  assassinating  Tarquinius  Priscus.  This  treasonable  act  they 
perpetrated  in  the  thirty-cigiiih  year  of  his  reign  ;  but  their  crime 
did  not  meet  widi  the  reward  of  success.* 


CHAPTER   II. 


Servius  Tli.i.us,  sixth  Kin^  of  Ilnmc — His  Political  Talnits — Artful  division  o 
the  People  into  Classes  and  Centuries — The  Census — Lustrum — Tarquiniu* 
Superbus — Cud  of  tlie  Reiril  jTovernnient — Reflections  (in  this  Period — Con- 
Btituiion  of  the  Senate — Narrow  Territory  of  tiie  Stale — Exaj^jjeralod  Account* 
of  its  Military  Force — Uncertainty  of  its  Early  History. 

Servius  Tullius  had  very  naturally  cherished  the  anibitious  do- 
sign  of  mounting  the  throne,  upon  the  death  of  his  faihcr-in-law. 
On  that  event,  he  thought  it  prudent  to  em|)loy  some  artifice.  He 
gave  out,  that  the  king,  though  dangerously  wounded,  was  still 
alive,  and  had  empowered  him,  in  the  meaiuime,  to  administer  the 
government,  and  to  bring  to  punishment  his  assassins.  He  |)ro- 
cured,  accordingly,  a  sentence  of  death  to  be  pronounced  on  the 
sons  of  Ancus  ;  but  they  escaped  their  fate  by  Hying  from  Rome, 
and  seeking  an  asylum  among  the  Volscians.  Servius,  thus  rid 
of  his  competitors,  proclaimed  the  king's  dcadi,  and  found  no  obsta- 
cle to  his  elevation  to  the  vacant  dignity. 
« 

•  In  the  tinio  of  the  rider  Tarquin,  NVbiichadnorzar  m.nle  the  conq«f«t  of 
Jerusalein,  and  carried  the  Jews  into  caplivily.  Sidi>n,  in  the  same  pori..d.  \vu 
cniployed  in  new  modelling  the  constitution,  and  giving  laws  to  llio  rrj)uljlic  of 
Athens. 

vol..    I.  33 


;!98  univp:rsal  msTouy.  [book  hi 

As  tlie  succession  of  Servius  had  wanted  all  the  iisnal  lormali* 
ties,  there  having  hcen  no  regular  election  by  the  people,  nor  any 
inaiigmaiion  l)y  llio  usual  consulialion  of  the  auspices,  the  new 
sovereign  wisely  bent  his  whole  attention  to  iugraiiating  himself 
with  his  subjects  by  every  method  that  could  procure  popularity. 
He  j)aid  the  debts  of  the  poorer  citizens  by  dividing  among  thcni 
such  lands  as  were  his  own  properly,  and  others  of  which  they 
had  been  illegally  deprived  by  the  richer  citizens.  He  adorned 
the  city  with  useful  edifices  ;  he  was  successful  in  the  wars  carried 
on  with  the  neighboring  nations;  and  the  people,  pleased  with  the 
moderation  he  showed  in  the  exercise  of  power,  soon  forgot  his 
usurpation. 

It  is  remarked  by  Montesquieu,  as  one  cause  of  the  rap'd 
advancement  of  Rome  in  the  first  ages  of  her  state,  that  all  her 
kings  were  great  men.  Servius  Tullius  was  a  prince  possessed  of 
superior  political  abilities.  There  is  nothing  more  worthy  of  atten- 
tion than  the  measures  which  he  took  for  the  reformation  of  those 
abuses  which  had  gradually  arisen  from  the  indeterminate  nature  of 
the  Roman  constitution,  and  particularly  that  artful  and  ingenious 
arrangement  of  the  people  into  classes  and  centuries,  by  which  he 
contrived  to  throw  the  whole  power  of  the  state  into  the  hands  of 
the  superior  order  of  citizens,  without  injury  or  offence  to  a 
numerous  populace,  whose  happiness  is  best  consulted  by  removing 
them  from  all  actual  concern  in  the  machine  of  government.  Of 
this  arrangement  it  is  necessary  for  the  proper  intelligence  of  the 
revolutions  of  the  Roman  commonwealth  that  a  particular  account 
should  here  be  given. 

From  the  time  that  the  Romans  had  associated  the  Sabine?  and 
the  peo|)!e  of  Alba  to  the  rights  of  citizens,  the  urban  and  the 
rustic  tribes  were  composed  of  three  distinct  nations,  each  of  which 
had  an  equal  share  in  the  government.  Each  tribe  being  divided 
into  ten  curict,  and  e'ach  curia  having  an  equal  vote  in  the  comitia 
or  public  assemblies,  as  every  individual  had  in  his  curia^  all 
questions  were  determined  by  the  majority  of  the  suffrages  of  indi- 
viduals. There  was  no  preeminence  or  distinction  between  the 
ciiricBj  and  the  order  in  which  they  gave  their  votes  was  determined 
by  lot. 

This  was  a  very  equitable  and  reasonable  arrangement  so  long 
as  there  were  few  distinctions  among  the  citizens,  and  no  great 
inequality  of  fortunes.  But  when  riches  came  to  be  unequally 
distributed,  it  was  easy  to  foresee  numberless  inconveniences  from 
this  equality  of  power.  The  indigent  or  the  worthless  would 
C(Hirt  every  revolution  which  gave  them  a  chance  of  bettering 
their  fortunes  ;  and  the  rich  had  an  easy  road  to  the  gratification 
of  the  most  dangerous  ambition  by  purchasing  with  bribes  the  votes 
of  the  poor. 

One  grievance,  likewise,  which  was  very  severely  felt  under  the 
former  constitution,   was,  that  all   taxes   were  paid  by  the  head, 


en.  IJ.j  SERVIUS    TUI.LIUS.  299 

without  regard  to  the  unequal  wealth  of  individuals.  Tliis  im- 
politic and  unjust  distribution,  of  which  tiie  poor  had  the  highesl 
reason  to  complain,  furnished  Servius  with  an  excellent  pretence 
for  effecting  that  reformation  which  he  meditated.  He  undertook 
to  remove  easily  the  poorer  citizens  from  all  share  in  the  govern- 
ment, by  exempting  them  from  all  public  burdens,  and  making 
these  fall  solely  on  the  ricli. 

After  explaining  to  the  people  at  large  the  necessity  as  well  as 
the  justice  of  regulating  tlie  taxes  and  contributions  of  individuals 
according  to  their  measure  of  wealth,  he  required,  by  a  public 
edict,  that  each  citizen  should  declare,  upon  oath,  his  name,  hia 
dwelling,  the  number  of  his  children,  their  age,  and  the  value  of 
his  whole  property,  under  the  penalty  of  having  his  goods  con- 
fiscated, being  publicly  scourged,  and  sold  for  a  slave. 

After  this  nuneration,  which  was  called  census,  Servius  divided 
the  whole  body  of  the  citizens,  without  distinction  of  rank,  birth, 
or  nation,  into  four  tribes,  named,  from  the  quarters  where  they 
dwelt,  Palnline,  Suburran,  Collatine  and  Esquiline.  These 
comprehended  only  such  as  dwelt  within  the  city.  He  formed 
other  Irlhcs  of  such  as  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  Roman  citizens, 
but  liveil  witliout  the  walls,  or  in  the  country.  Of  these  the 
number  is  uncertain,  some  authors  making  the  rustic  tribes  amount 
to  fifteen,  others  to  seventeen,  and  others  again  to  twenty-six. 
The  number  probably  varied,  according  as  the  Romans  extended 
their  frontier.  These  rustic  tribes  are  frequently  mentioned  in  the 
Roman  history.  It  is  only  necessary  to  remark  at  present,  that 
in  early  times  it  was  held  more  honorable  to  be  included  in  those 
of  the  city;  but  this  distinction  did  not  always  continue. 

Besides  this  local  division  from  the  places  where  the  diirerent 
citizens  had  their  dwelling-houses,  Servius  divided  the  whole  body 
of  the  people  into  six  classes,  and  each  class  into  several  centuries  ; 
but  these  classes  did  not  each  contain  the  same  number  ol  cen- 
turies. It  is  to  be  observed  that  a  century  was  so  termed,  not  as 
in  Itself  consisting  of  one  hundred  men,  but  as  being  obliged  to 
furnish  and  to  maintain  that  number  of  soldiers  for  the  service 
of  the  state,  in  time  of  war.  In  the  first  class  there  were  no  less 
than  ninety-eight  centuri(>s.  These  were  the  richest  citizens  ; 
such  as  were  worth  at  least  100  mimv,  about  300/.  sterling.  The 
second  class  consisted  of  twenty-two  centuries,  and  compri'hcnded 
such  as  were  worth  75  inintt,  about  225/.  sterling.  The  third 
class  contained  twenty  centuries,  of  such  as  were  worth  50  mind.. 
or  150/.  sterling.  The  fourth,  of  twenty-two  centuries,  or  such 
as  were  worth  half  lluit  sum  ;  and  in  the  fifth  were  diirty  centu- 
ries, of  those  worth  12  miniv,  or  Ml.  sterling.  The  last  class, 
though  the  most  numerous  of  the  whole,  formed  but  a  single 
century  ;  and  under  this  cla-;s  were  comprehended  all  the  poor 
citizens  Thus  the  whol(3  body  of  th'-  R(^man  people  was  :livided 
bto  one  hundred  and  ninety -three  centuries — or  portions  of  cili 


300  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY.  [bOOK  III 

zcns  so  termed,  as  furnisliing  and  supporting  each  one  luindrec 
soldiers  in  lime  of  war.  The  last  class,  the  poor  citizens,  were 
exempted  from  all  taxes  and  public  burdens ;  they  were  called 
Ciipitc  Ccnsi^  as  only  making  up  a  number  ;  or  were  sometimes 
termed  Prolelarii^  as  contributing  to  the  use  of  the  state  only  by 
raising  progeny.  The  other  classes  were  rated  for  their  propor- 
tions of  the  public  taxes,  at  so  much  for  each  century.  The 
military  centuries  of  the  different  classes  formed  separate  bodies 
of  distinct  rank  ;  those  of  the  first  class  being  the  highest,  and 
those  of  the  last  the  lowest ;  they  were  distinguished  likewise  by 
the  arms  they  bore.  The  one-half  of  each  century  of  soldiers, 
namely,  those  above  forty-five  years  of  age,  were  reserved  for  the 
jirotection  of  the  city. 

It  was  very  evident  that  the  poorer  citizens  had  no  reason  to 
complain  of  this  new  establishment,  which  exempted  the  greater 
part  from  all  taxes,  and  proportioned  the  burdens  of  the  rest  to 
their  share  of  wealth  ;  but  there  was  something  necessary  to  in- 
demnify and  conciliate  the  rich.  For  this  purpose,  Servius  ordain- 
ed fiiat  in  future  the  people  should  be  assembled  and  give  their 
votes  by  centuries ;  the  first  class,  consisting  of  ninety-eight  centu- 
ries, always  having  the  precedence  in  voting.  Such  was  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  Comitia  Centuriata^  in  which,  henceforward,  the 
chief  magistrates  were  elected,  the  laws  framed,  peace  and  war 
resolved  on,  and,  in  a  word,  in  which  the  supreme  power  of  the 
state  was  vested.  The  Comitia  Curiata,  where  the  people  were 
assembled  by  Curice^  were  now  held  only  for  the  election  of  some 
of  the  priests,  and  a  few  of  the  inferior  magistrates.  The  Comitia 
were  held  in  the  Campus  J\Iartius,  without  the  city.  The  peo- 
ple walked  thither  preceded  by  their  officers  and  insignia,  in  all 
the  order  of  a  military  procession,  but  without  arms.  The  king 
alone  had  the  power  of  calling  these  assemblies,  after  consulting 
the  auspices. 

As  in  the  Comitia  Centuriata  all  the  centuries,  or  the  whole 
body  of  the  people,  were  called  to  the  assembly,  the  whole  of  the 
citizens  seemed  to  have  an  equal  share  in  the  public  deliberations. 
Yet  this  was  far  from  being  the  case.  The  poorer  classes  came 
necessarily  to  be  deprived  of  all  influence  in  the  public  measures: 
for  as  there  were  in  all  the  six  classes  one  hundred  and  nincty-diree 
centuries,  and  the  first  class  consisted  of  no  less  than  r.inety-eight 
of  liiese,  who  always  s;ave  their  votes  first,  if  these  were  of  one 
mind,  which  generally  happened  in  important  questions,  the  suf- 
frages of  the  rest  were  of  no  avail,  and  were  not  asked.  If  the 
first  class  was  not  unanimous,  the  second  came  to  have  a  vote ; 
but  there  was  very  rarely  any  opportunity  for  the  inferior  classes 
to  exercise  their  right  of  suffrage.  Thus  the  whole  power  of  the 
state  was  ar; fully  removed  from  the  body  of  the  people  at  large  to 
the  richer  classes  ;  and  such  was  the  ingenuity  of  this  policy,  that 
all  were  pleased  with  it.     The  rich  were  willing  to  pay  for  their 


CH.   II  ]  TARQUl>f    THE    rUOUD.  ^01 

influence  in  the  state,  and  the  poor  were  glad  to  exchange  autht)rit\ 
for  immunities.  'J'hey  were  satisfied  wiih  the  appearance  of  con- 
sequence which  they  enjoyed  by  being  called  to  the  Comitia; 
and  it  was  not  till  ambitious  men,  to  use  them  as  instruments  for 
their  own  designs,  rendered  them  jealous  of  their  situation,  tha? 
they  began  to  express  any  discontent. 

The  Census  was  concluded  by  a  ceremony  called  Lustrum,  or 
an  expiation.  The  king  presided  at  the  sacrifice  of  a  bull,  a  ram, 
and  a  hog,  which  were  first  led  three  times  round  the  Camj)U3 
Martins.  Hence  the  sacrifice  was  called  Suoi-etaurilia,  or  some- 
times Taurilia.  It  was  performed  every  Jive  years,  and  thence 
that  period  was  termed  Lustrum. 

Religion  had  been  the  earliest  bond  of  union  among  the  states 
of  Greece.  Temples  had  been  erected  at  the  common  charge  of 
the  different  republics,  which  accustomed  them  to  consider  them- 
selves as  one  nation.  After  this  model  Servius  underfook  to 
unite  the  states  of  Latium.  In  order  that  they  migiit  regard  Rome 
as  a  metropolis,  he  persuaded  them  to  build  at  their  common 
charges  a  magnificent  temple  to  Diana  on  the  Aventine  Mount, 
and  to  repair  thither  once  a  year  to  perform  sacrifice.  Thus  the 
■Romans  contracted  a  strict  alliance  with  the  Latian  states,  which 
mainly  contributed  to  increase  their  power.  Servius  was  a  genuine 
and  enlightened  patriot.  In  all  the  changes  which  he  effected 
in  the  constitution  of  the  state,  he  had  no  other  end  than  the 
public  good.  Of  the  disinterested  nature  of  his  conduct  he  had 
prepared  to  give  the  most  eflectual  demonstration,  by  resigning 
the  crown  and  returning  to  the  condition  of  a  private  citizen,  when, 
to  the  regret  of  his  subjects,  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  most  atrocious 
treason.  His  infamous  daughter,  Tullia,  married  to  Tarquinius, 
the  grandson  of  Priscus,  conspired  with  her  husband  to  dethrone 
and  put  to  death  her  father;  and  this  excellent  prince  was  assas- 
sinated, after  a  reign  of  forty-four  years. 

Tarquinius  had  gained  the  throne  by  the  foulest  of  crimes,  and 
he  resolved  to  secure  himself  in  it  by  violence.  He  acquired  h'om 
his  manners  the  surname  of  Supcrbus.,  pride  being  the  usual  attend- 
ant of  tyranny  and  cruelty.  JNIontesquieu  has  attempted  to  vindi- 
cate the  character  of  this  tyrant,  and  even  to  eulogize  his  virtues, 
as  Lord  Orford  has  displayed  his  talents  m  a  vindication  of  our 
English  Tarquin,  Richard  III.,  and  both  with  nearly  the  same 
success.  yVc  may  admire  the  ingenuity  of  the  advocate  who 
tries  his  powers  in  such  arduous  attemjits,  but  we  cannot  judge 
them  entitled  to  praise.  Let  the  man  of  ingonuiiy  stand  forth  as 
theciiampion  of  virtue,  which  too  often  sufl'ers  from  the  envonomed 
tooth  of  envy  and  detraction.  In  this  benevolent  ollice  he  will 
find  abundant  scope  and  exercise  for  his  talents:  but  to  lessen  the 
criminality  of  the  avowedly  vicious — to  exculpate  from  one  or  from 
a  few  slight  ofienccs  where  the  blackest  crimes  have  deservedly 
consigned  a  character  to  infamy — in  such   attempts   there  is   murit 


302  UNIVKKSAI.  IIISTOHY.  [iJOOK    Ml 

(Icmoiit;  for  tlio  salutary  liorror  of  vice  is  tlius  weakened  and 
diminished,  and  virtue  herself  is  defrauded  by  lessening  the  value 
of  her  just  reward. 

The  government  of  Tarquinius  was  regulated  by  principles 
totally  ojjposite  to  those  of  his  predecessor.  lie  was  in  every 
sense  a  despot.  With  considerable  military  talents,  he  was  suc- 
cessful in  his  wars  against  the  Volsci  and  Sabines,  the  Latins  of 
Gabi',  and  other  enemies  of  the  Roman  state;  and  he  used  these 
conquests  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  soldiery,  to  wluin  he 
allowed  free  scope  to  ravage  and  plunder  in  the  course  of  hostili- 
ties; but  the  daily  encroachments  which  he  made  on  the  liberties 
of  all  ranks  in  the  state,  and  the  extreme  severity  and  cruelty  he 
displayed  iit  support  of  an  arbitrary  control,  soon  rendered  him  the 
object  of  universal  detestation.  The  more  powerful  of  the  citizens, 
who,  from  their  influence  with  the  people,  excited  the  fears  and 
jealousy  of  the  tyrant,  were  on  various  pretences  arraigned  and 
put  to  death.  Others,  against  whom  there  was  no  pretext  for  a 
judicial  accusation,  were  privately  assassinated.  Thus  he  put  to 
death  the  father  and  the  brother  of  Lucius  Junius,  two  of  the 
most  respectable  of  the  citizens.  Lucius  himself,  to  escape  a 
similar  fate,  counterfeited  fatuity,  and  thence  acquired  the  denomi- 
nation of  Brutus. 

This  most  sanguinary  tyrant,  whose  enormous  offences  daily 
called  for  vengence  from  an  injured  people,  was  yet  suffered  to 
reign  for  twenty-four  years,  and  was  at  length  punished  for  a 
crime  which  was  not  his  own.  His  son  Sextus,  equally  lawless  and 
flagitious,  had  committed  a  rape  on'  Lucretia,  the  wife  of  Colla- 
tinus,  and  the  injured  matron,  unable  to  survive  her  dishonor, 
stabbed  herself  in  the  presence  of  her  h.usband  and  kindred. 
Brutus,  a  witness  to  this  shocking  scene,  drew  the  dagger  from 
her  breast,  and  swore  by  the  eternal  gods  to  be  the  avenger  of 
her  death — an  oath  immediately  taken  by  all  who  were  present. 
The  dead  body  of  the  violated  Lucretia  was  brought  into  the 
forum,  and  Brutus,  throwing  off  his  assumed  disguise  of  insanity, 
appeared  the  passionate  advocate  of  a  just  revenge,  and  the  ani- 
mated orator  in  the  cause  of  liberty  against  tyrannical  oppression 
The  people  were  roused  in  a  moment,  and  were  prompt  and 
unanimous  in  their  procedure.  Tarquinius  was  at  this  time  absent 
from  the  city,  engaged  in  a  war  with  the  Rutulians.  The  senate 
was  assembled,  and  pronounced  a  decree  which  banished  for  ever 
the  tyrant,  and  at  the  same  time  utterly  abolished  the  name  and 
office  of  king.  This  decree  was  immediately  confirmed  by  the 
people  in  the  Comitia,  who  at  the  same  time  added  to  it  a  tremen- 
dous sanction,  devoting  to  the  infernal  gods  every  Roman  who 
should  by  word  or  deed  endeavor  to  counteract  or  invalidate  it. 

Such  was  the  end  of  the  regal  government  at  Rome,  which 
had  subsisted  for  244  years.  On  this  first  period  of  the  Roman 
history  I  shall  here  offer  a  few  reflections 


CH.     II  "]  EARLY  GOVERNMENT  OF  ROME  303 

The  constitution  of  the  Roman  government  was  at  first  nomin- 
ally monarchical;  but  in  fact  the  kings  of  Rome  seem  to  have 
enjoyed  but  a  very  moderate  share  of  those  powers  wliich  ordi- 
narily attend  the  monarchical  government.  We  liave  seen  that 
the  regal  dignity  was  elective,  and  that  the  choice  resided  in  the 
people.  It  was  the  senate  who  most  frequently  proj)osed  the 
laws,  but  it  was  the  people  in  their  Comiiia  who  ratified  them; 
nor  could  the  king,  without  the  consent  of  the  people,  proclaim  war 
or  peace.  These  rights  of  the  people  we  find  acknowled^ml  by 
the  peo])le  without  dispute;  nor  does  it  appear,  till  the  reign  of 
the  last  Tarquin,  that  any  attempts  were  made,  upon  the  [)arl  of 
the  throne,  to  extend  the  monarchical  authority  so  limited  and 
restrained. 

A  constitution  thus  attempered  is  not  naturally  the  result  of  the 
first  union  of  a  savage  tribe;  and  hence  has  arisen  the  idea  of  ex- 
traordinary political  abilities  in  the  founder  of  this  monarchy, 
Romulus,  to  whom  several  writers  have  chosen  to  attribute  the 
whole  formation  of  a  system  which  it  is  more  reasonable  to  believe 
was  the  slow  growth  of  time  and  of  experience.  Willi  these 
authors,  no  lawgiver  is  supposed  to  have  ever  proceeded  uj)on  a 
more  extensive  acquaintance  with  the  nature  of  the  political  estab- 
lishments of  different  stales,  or  a  juster  estimate  of  their  merits 
and  defects,  than  Romulus,  a  youth  of  eighteen,  in  that  system  of 
regulations  which  he  laid  down  for  those  rude  shepherds  or  rob- 
bers whom  he  is  said  to  have  assembled  and  formed  into  a  com- 
munity. 

These  romantic  notions  have,  I  believe,  originated  in  a  great 
measure  from  an  implicit  reliance  on  the  account  of  the  origin  of 
the  Roman  state  given  by  Dionysius  of  Ilalicarnassus,  whose 
work,  however  ingenious,  and  in  many  respects  estimable,  is  by 
no  means  to  be  relied  on  as  a  sure  authority  in  tracing  the  early 
history  of  Rome,  which  he  himself  confesses  that  he  has  founded 
chicHy  upon  ancient  fables,  treated  wiih  neglect  or  passed  over 
by  other  writers.  Indeed  the  fables  which  he  relates  carry  (heir 
own  confutation  along  with  them  ;  for  what  fiction  can  be  more 
absurd  and  incredible  than  to  suppose  an  ignorant  and  rude  youth, 
(he  leader  of  a  gang  of  banditti,  or  the  chief  of  a  troop  of  snep- 
herds,  immediately  after  he  had  reared  the  (urf  walls  of  his  pro- 
jected city,  calling  together  his  followers,  and  delivering  a  labored 
and  methodical  oration  on  the  natiu'c  of  the  different  kinds  of 
government,  such  as  he  had  heard  existed  in  Greece  and  other 
nations,  desiring  his  hearers  seriously  to  weigh  the  advantases  and 
H'^.fects  of  those  different  political  constitutions,  and  modesdy  ron- 
cnidiiig  with  a  declaration  that  he  is  ready  to  accede  with  cheer- 
Ailness  to  whatever  form  they,  in  their  aggregate  wisdom,  may 
decree.''  On  this  absurd  fiction  Dionysius  rears  (he  structure  of  a 
finely  attempered  constitution,  all  at  once  framed  and  adopted  by 
4ii3  troop  of  barbarians;  a  beautiful   system,  judiciously  blending 


301  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  I  HOOK    III 

inoiuucliy,  aristocracy,  and  deinorracy.  Dionysius,  liowever,  has, 
with  siiii^iilar  iiijudicioiisness,  di.scroditofi  his  own  authority,  hy 
inakiiij;;  a  foolish  paiade  of  tiic  motives  whifh  inthiced  him  to  com- 
pile his  history.  lie  owns  that  his  chief  ohjcct  was  to  render  his 
work  a  pleasing  and  po))ular  composition;  something  that  might 
flatter  the  pride  of  the  Ronians,  and  inspire  his  own  countrymen, 
the  Greeks,  with  a  high  idea  of  the  dignity  of  their  concjuerors. 
"The  Greeks,"  says  hn,  "  deceived  hy  vulgar  report,  imagined 
that  the  founders  of  Rome  were  barbarians,  and  vagabonds  without 
house  or  home,  and  those  too  the  slaves  and  de|)endcnls  of  their 
iCader.  To  eflace  these  impressions  from  the  minds  of  my  coun- 
trymen, and  engage  them  to  eniertam  more  just  notions,  so  as  not 
to  repine  at  being  subject  to  a  people  who,  from  superiority  of 
merit,  have  a  natural  riglit  to  the  dominion  over  all  others,  I  under- 
take this  work.  Let  them  cease  to  accuse  fortune  of  this  disj)cn- 
sation,  since  it  is  agreeable  to  an  eternal  law  of  nature  that  the 
strong  should  be  the  rulers  of  the  weak.  My  countrymen  will 
now  learn  from  history  that  Rome  had  scarcely  sprung  into  exist- 
ence when  she  began  to  produce  niyriads  of  men,  than  whom  no 
state,  either  Grecian  or  barbarian,  ever  reared  more  pious,  more 
lust,  more  temperate,  more  brave,  or  more  skilful  in  war. — But 
these  wonderful  men,  (continues  he,)  are  unknown  to  the  Greeks 
from  the  want  of  an  historian  worthy  to  record  their  merits."*  It 
will  be  readily  allowed  that  a  preface  of  this  nature  is  not  fitted  to 
increase  our  opinion  either  of  the  truth,  the  candor,  or  even  the 
judgment  of  the  historian. 

To  return: — The  notions,  therefore,  which  some  modern  writers, 
relying  on  the  authority  of  Dionysius,  have  adopted,  of  the  won- 
derful political  talents  of  Romulus,  and  that  judicious  temperament 
he. is  supposed  to  have  made  between  the  power  of  the  sovereign, 
the  authority  of  the  senate,  and  the  rights  of  the  people,  seem  to 
he  little  else  than  a  chimaera.  The  first  political  institutions  of 
the  Roman  state  were,  like  those  of  every  other,  simple  and 
inartificial  ;  suited  to  the  immediate  wr^nts,  and  corresponding  to 
the  exigencies  of  a  rude  tribe,  first  forming  itself  into  a  regular 
community  ;  but  of  whom,  individual  members  had  probably  been 
the  exiles  or  fugitives  from  a  state  enjoying  some  degree  of  civili- 
sation, and  subject  to  laws  and  institutions,  which  they  were  thus 
enabled  to  impart  to  the  new  society  they  had  agreed  to  form, 
and  of  which  they  had  chosen  Romulus  to  be  the  chief,  or  sove- 
reign. The  fabric  of  the  Roman  government,  such  as  we  find  it 
within  the  period  of  any  history  we  can  deem  authentic,  was,  like 
every  other,  the  gradual  result  of  circumstances,  the  fruit  of  time 
and  of  political  emergency. 

The  earlv  constitution  of  the  Roman  senate  has  c:iven  occasion 


Dionys.  Hal.,  Ant.  Rom.,  lib  i. 


CH.    II.]  EARLY    GOVKUNMENT    OF    KOME.  30,5 

to  much  learned  disquisition.  The  most  judicious  wrilcrs  have 
candidly  confessed,  that,  with  regard  to  the  original  mode  of  elect- 
ing its  members,  they  pretend  to  nothing  more  than  conjecture; 
as  the  ancient  authors  have  been  sparing  in  their  information,  ex- 
tremely obscure,  and  often  contradictory  in  their  accounts.  The 
most  probable  opinion  seems  to  be  that  of  the  Abbe  Vertot — that, 
during  the  regal  government,  the  kings  had  the  sole  right  of  nomi- 
nating the  senators;  that  the  consuls  succeeded  them  in  this  power; 
and  that,  when  these  magistrates  became  too  much  engaged  in 
war  to  attend  to  domestic  policy,  that  privilege  devolved  upon  the 
censors.  The  senators  were,  at  first,  always  chosen  out  of  the 
order  of  the  patricians ;  that  is,  out  of  those  families  descended 
from  the  first  Centum  Patres  who  are  supposed  to  have  been 
named  by  Romulus.  But  afterwards,  the  right  of  election  to  that 
dignity  became  common  to  the  i)cople  and  was  among  the  first  of 
those  privileges  to  which  they  obtained  an  equal  title  with  the 
patricians.  The  authority  of  the  senate,  in  the  first  ages  of  the 
commonwealth,  was  very  extensive.  No  assembly  of  the  people 
could  be  held  but  in  consequence  of  their  decree  ;  nor  could  such 
assembly  take  any  matter  under  consideration  that  had  not  first 
oeen  debated  in  the  senate^  It  was  even  necessary,  in  order  to 
give  the  Plebiscita^  or  decrees  of  the  people,  any  efTect,  that  they 
should  be  confirmed  by  a  second  decree  of  the  senate  ;  and  hence, 
with  ap])arent  justice,  the  government  of  the  Romans,  during  the 
earlier  times  of  the  Republic,  has  been  termed  rather  an  ar'L^tocracy 
than  a  democracy. 

From  this  exorbitant  power  of  the  senate  the  first  diminutions 
were  made  by  the  tribunes  of  the  people,  as  we  shall  soon  see  ; 
but  this  was  not  without  a  violent  and  lasting  struggle  on  the  part 
of  the  senate  to  maintain  what  had  been  their  original  rights  :  those 
privileges,  however,  which  remained  always  in  the  senate,  and 
which  the  jieople  never  pretended  to  call  in  (piestion,  were  very 
extensive.  Tlie  senate  always  continued  to  have  the  direction  of 
every  thing  that  regarded  religion  :  they  had  the  cu-^tody  of  the 
public  treasure,  and  the  absolute  disposal  of  it :  they  gave  audience 
to  ambassadors,  decided  the  fate  of  vanquished  nations,  dis|)osed  of 
the  governments  of  the  provinces,  and  took  cognisance,  by  appeal, 
of  ail  crimes  committed  throughoui  the  empire.  In  one  particular, 
upon  great  emergencies,  their  authority  was  truly  supreme  and 
despotical.  In  times  of  imminent  danger,  the  senate  issued  its 
decree.  Dent  operam  Consules,  ne  quid  Respubllcd  drlrimenli 
capiat;  a  decree  which  gave  to  these  chief  magistrates  a  supreme 
and  unlimited  power  for  the  time,  inilependent  both  of  the  senate 
which  conferred  it,  and  of  the  people.  Such  were  the  acknow- 
ledged powers  of  the  Roman  senate  through  the  whole  period  of 
the  commonwealth.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  |)erpetual  council,  whose 
province  it  was  to  suj)erintend  all  the  magistrates  of  the  stale,  and 
VOL.  I.  39 


^06  tiMVKUS.M,    IIISTOKV.  [lIOOK   III 

(o  watch  over  the  snfL-ty  of  llu.*  rcpuhlif.  Yd  in  ilio  riK)ro  arl- 
vancc'd  tiiiK's  of  llie  commoiiwcaliii,  llic  senate  always  made  a 
show  of  ackiiowlcdi^ing  the  last,  or  exooiiiive'  power  to  be  lodged 
in  the  people  ;  Scnalus  censxiil,  popnlus  jv.ssil:  although  this  may 
fairly  he  supposed  to  l)e  nothing  inore  than  a  piece  of  afTectcd 
moderation  :  since  we  know  that  they  retained  the  full  exercise  of 
those  powers  we  have  mentioned,  even  after  all  the  encroachments 
of  the  people,  down  to  the  times  of  the  Gracchi,  (a.  u.  c.  020,) 
when  their  authority  suffered,  indeed,  a  great  abridgment. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  regal  government,  the  territory  belong- 
ing to  the  Roman  state  was  extremely  limited.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  only  forty  miles  in  length  and  thirty  in  breadth.  The  pro- 
gress of  the  Romans  in  extending  their  frontier  was  at  first  ex- 
tremely slow.  Time  was  requisite  for  subduing  nations  as  warlike 
as  themselves  :  and  the  methods  both  of  making  conquests  and 
preserving  them  were  little  known.  This  was  the  reason  why 
the  first  care  of  the  Romans,  most  wisely,  was  to  strengthen  them- 
selves in  their  possessions.  It  would  have  weakened  them  too 
much  had  they  early  attempted  to  extend  their  boundaries.  The 
only  use  they  yet  made  of  their  victories  was  to  naturalize  the 
inhabitants  of  some  of  the  conquered  states,  and  thus  increase  their 
po[)ulation.  By  this  wise  forbearance  they  became  a  powerful 
state,  though  within  a  narrow  territory;  because  their  strength  was 
always  superior  to  their  enterprises.  They  derived,  likewise,  from 
the  small  extent  of  their  lands,  a  spirit  of  moderation  and  frugality. 
It  was  thus  they  paved  the  way  for  extending  their  limits  afterwards 
with  advantage  ;  and  this  judicious  policy  of  choosing  at  first  to 
possess  rather  too  small  than  too  extensive  a  territory,  laid  the  solid 
ibunrlation  of  their  future  greatness. 

But  with  regard  to  the  real  forces  or  strength  both  of  the  Romans 
and  of  their  rival  states  in  those  early  times,  we  are,  on  the  whole, 
extremely  ignorant.  The  Roman  historians  appear  to  have  exag- 
gerated greatly  in  these  particulars.  We  find  in  those  autiiors, 
that,  notwithstanding  very  bloody  engagements,  the  Romans,  as 
well  as  their  enemies — the  Latins,  Sabines,  ^qui,  and  Volsci — 
take  the  field  next  campaign  with  armies  still  more  numerous  than 
before.  Yet  the  cities  and  territories  which  furnished  those  armies 
were  extremely  inconsiderable.  The  country  to  which  ihey  be- 
longed was  not  remarkable  for  its  fertility;  and  in  such  a  state  of 
j)erpctual  warfare,  the  inhabitants,  constantly  intent  on  ravaging  and 
pillaging,  could  not  possibly  cultivate  it  to  advantage.  We  have 
every  reason,  therefore,  to  believe  that  the  numbers  of  those  armies 
said  to  have  been  brought  into  the  field  are  greatly  exaggerated. 

The  frequent,  and  indeed  incessant  wars  between  those  neigh- 
boring nations  and    the   Roman  state  during  the  early  periods — 
continually  renewed,  in  spite  of  repeated  treaties,  and  many  signal, 
and  apparently  decisive   victories — are   subjects   of  just   surjirise 
M.  Montesquieu  has  assigned  a  very  ingenious  cause   for  this  dis- 


CII.  11. "1  EARLY  GOVERNMENT  OF  ROME.  307 

regard  of  treaties.  It  was  a  maxim  among  tlie  slates  of  Italy, 
that  treaties  or  conventions  made  with  one  king  or  chief  magis- 
trate had  no  binding  oitligation  iijion  his  successor.  This,  says 
he,  was  a  sort  of  law  of  nations  among  them.  It  were  to  f>e 
wished  that  ingenious  writer  had  given  some  special  authority  for 
this  very  singular  fact,  instead  of  contenting  himself  with  saying 
m  general  that  it  appears  throughout  the  history  of  the  kings  of 
Rome. 

In  the  subsequent  periods  of  the  Roman  history,  hostilities  more 
generally  commenced  upon  the  part  of  the  Romans  than  on  that 
of  their  neighbors;  of  which  there  seems  to  have  been  this  sim- 
ple cause,  that  the  chief  magistrates,  the  consuls,  being  changed 
every  year,  it  was  natur;:!  for  every  magistrate  to  endeavor  to 
signalize  himself  as  much  as  he  could  during  the  short  period  o( 
his  administration.  Hence  the  consuls  were  always  persuading 
the  senate  to  some  new  military  enterprise;  and  that  body  soon 
became  glad  of  a  pretext  which,  by  employing  the  people  in  an 
occupation  they  were  fond  of,  prevented  ail  intestine  disquiets  and 
mutinies.  That  this  continual  engagement  in  war,  and  consequent 
chararteristical  military  spirit  of  tlie  Romans,  was  owing  to  nothing 
else  than  their  situation,  is  rendered  the  more  probable  from  this 
fact,  that,  excepting  a  small  circle  of  the  states  immediately  around 
and  in  their  vicinity,  which  necessarily  contracted  the  same  military 
spirit,  all  the  other  nations  of  Italy  were  indolent,  voluptuous,  and 
inactive. 

The  regal  government  among  the  Romans  subsisted  for  24-1 
years,  and  during  all  that  time  only  seven  kings  are  said  to  have 
reigned.  This  statement  is  extraordinary;  and  the  more  so  when 
we  consider  that  there  was  no  hereditary  succession,  where  some- 
times an  infant  succeeds  to  an  old  man;  but  each  king  was  ad- 
vanced in  life  when  he  ascended  the  throne;  that  several  of  them 
died  a  violent  death,  and  that  the  last  of  them  lived  thirteen  years 
after  his  expulsion.  These  are  circumstances  which  have  suggest- 
ed considerable  doubt  with  regard  to  this  period  of  the  Roman 
(listury;  and  it  must  be  acknowled<i;ed  that,  even  during  the  first 
five  centuries  from  the  alleged  period  of  the  building  of  Rome,  we 
can  be  very  little  assured  that  the  detail  of  facts  which  is  com- 
monly received  on  the  authority  of  Livy  and  Dionysius  is  ])erfecily 
authentic.  It  is  an  undisputed  fact,  that  during  the  greater  part 
of  that  time  there  were  no  historians.  The  first  Roman  wIki 
undertook  to  write  the  history  of  his  country,  was  Fnbius  I'ictor, 
who  lived  during  the  second  Punic  war,  (a.  u.  c.  535,  and  B.  c. 
218,)  to  which  period  he  brought  down  his  work;  but  the  mate- 
rials from  which  it  was  compiled  were,  if  we  may  credit  Dionysius, 
in  a  great  measure  traditionary  reports;  nor  is  his  chronology  to 
be  relied  on.  We  know,  indeed,  with  some  certainty,  that  there 
were  no  authentic  monuments  of  the  early  ages  at  thi."  time 
existing  among  the   Romans.     Livv  tells  us,  that  almost  all  iJio 


30S  U.NIVEKSAI.    IIISTORV.  [nOOK   III 

incioiil  rocords  of  their  history  jjcrishod  hy  firo  .vliori  the  city  \va? 
taken  hy  the  (Jatils.  This  aiitlior,  thfMeiorc,  with  great  candor, 
^ives  liis  readers  to  understand  that  he  does  not  warrant  the  authen- 
ticity of  what  iie  relates  of  those  ancient  times.  "It  has  h>:cn 
allowed,"  says  he,  "to  antiquity  to  mix  what  is  human  or  natural 
with  the  divine  or  supernatural,  and  thus  to  magnify  or  exalt  the 
origin  of  cmpir(s;  hut  on  such  traditions  I  lay  little  stress;  and 
what  weight  or  authority  may  be  given  to  them  I  shall  not  here 
stop  to  consider."  * 

From  such  and  similar  considerations,  some  critics  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  reject  as  entirely  fabulous  the  whole  history  of  those 
first  five  hundred  years  of  the  Roman  story:  but  this  is  to  push 
the  skeptical  spirit  greatly  too  far.  There  is,  indeed,  a  mist  of 
doubt  hanging  over  the  origin  of  this  great  people,  as  over  that  of 
most  of  the  anc'ent  nations:  and  it  is  the  part  of  sober  and  dis- 
criminating judgment  to  separate  what  has  the  probability  of 
authenticity  from  what  is  palj)ably  fabulous,  and  thus  to  form  for 
itself  a  rational  creed,  even  with  regard  to  those  ages  where  the 
materials  of  history  are  most  deficient.  It  is  not  unreasonable  to 
conceive  that  the  great  outlines  of  the  revolutions  and  fortune  of 
nations,  in  remote  periods  of  time,  may  be  preserved  for  many 
centuries  by  tradition  alone,  though  extremely  natural  that,  in  this 
traditionary  record,  the  truth  may  undergo  a  liberal  intermixture 
of  fable  and  romance. 


CHAPTER   III. 


Intorre^num — Consuls  appointed  vrith  sovereign  power — Conspiracy  against 
tlie  new  Government — Patriotism  of  Brutus — Valerian  Law — War  with  Por- 
sena — Popular  disturbances — Debts  of  the  Poor — A  Dictator  appointed — 
Impolitic  conduct  of  the  Patricians — Their  Concessions — Tribunes  of  the 
People  created — Change  in  the  Constitution — Reflections  on. 

Tarquinius  Superbus  had  trampled  on  all  the  constitutional 
restraints,  and  on  all  the  regulations  of  the  preceding  sovereigns. 
He  had  never  assembled  the  senate,  nor  called  together  the  people 


*  Datur  hcDC  venia  antiquitati,  ut  niiscendo  humana  divinis,  primordia  urbi 
um  augustiora  facial. — Sed  ha^c  et  his  siniilia,  utcvinque  animadversa  aut  nesti 
mata  erunt,  liaud  equidem  in  magno  ponam  discriinine  — Liv.  Hist.,  lib.  i 
Proem 


CH.    Ill  J  THE    CONSULS.  30S' 

in  die  Comitia.  He  is  even  said  to  have  destroyed  or  broken 
the  tablets  on  which  tiie  laws  were  written,  in  order  to  efface  all 
remembrance  of  them.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  after  his  ex- 
pulsion, that  new  tablets  should  be  franicd,  and  these,  we  may 
presume,  were  much  the  same  with  the  former. 

An  interregnum  took  place  for  some  time,  and  during;  this  time 
the  supreme  power  was  lodged  by  the  senate  in  the  hands  of  Lu- 
cretius. Brutus  having  in  his  possession  some  writings  ol  Seivius 
Tullius,  containing,  as  it  is  said,  the  plan  of  a  republican  govern- 
ment, these  were  read  to  the  senate  and  people,  and  approved  ol. 
The  regal  government  had  become  completely  odious,  and  it  was 
agreed  to  commit  the  supreme  authority  to  two  magistrates,  to  be 
annually  elected  by  the  people  out  of  the  order  of  the  j)atricians. 
To  these  they  gave  the  name  of  Consules;  a  modest  title,  says 
the  Abbe  de  Verlot,  which  gave  to  understand  that  these  magis- 
trates were  rather  the  counsellors  of  the  rej)ublic  than  its  sovereigns, 
and  that  the  only  point  which  they  ought  to  have  in  view  was  its 
preservation  and  glory.  But,  in  fact,  the  authority  of  the  consuls 
differed  scarcely  any  thing  from  that  of  the  kings.  They  had  the 
chief  administration  of  justice,  the  absolute  disposal  of  the  public 
money,  the  power  of  convoking  the  senate,  and  assembling  the 
people,  of  raising  troops,  naming  all  the  officers,  and  the  right  of 
making  j)eace,  war,  and  alliance;  in  short,  unless  that  their  au- 
thority was  limited  to  a  year,  they  were  in  every  respect  kings. 
The  consuls  wore  the  purple  robe,  they  had  the  srlla  curulii,  or 
ivory  chair  of  state,  and  each  of  them  was  attended  by  twelve 
lictors  armed  with  the  fasces,  the  symbols  of  their  power  of  life 
and  death.  The  two  first  consuls  were  Brutus  and  Collatinus, 
the  husband  of  Lucretia. 

These  magistrates,  we  have  said,  were  elected  out  of  the  body 
of  the  patricians;  an  exclusive  privilege  which,  in  fact,  rendered 
the  constitution  purely  aristocratical.  But  the  jealousy  of  the 
people  was  not  yet  alarmed;  and  they  were  so  well  pleased  to  be 
ireed  from  the  despotic  power  of  a  single  tyrant,  that  it  d  d  not 
occur  to  ihern  that  they  had  any  thing  to  dread  from  a  multitude 
of  tyrants. 

On  this  change  of  the  government,  solemn  sacrifices  were  per- 
formed, the  ciiy  was  purified  by  an  expiation  or  lustrum,  and  the 
peojile  renewed  tluMr  oaih  aeainst  the  name  and  oflice  of  king. 
Tarcpiin  was  at  this  time  in  Etruiia,  where  he  prevailed  on  two  of 
the  most  powerful  cities,  V'eii  and  Tanpiinii,  to  espouse  his  cause. 
These  states  sent  ambassadors  to  Rome  with  a  formal  recpii^iiion, 
that  the  exiled  prince  might  be  allowed  to  return  and  give  an 
account  of  his  conduct;  btit  as  it  must  have  been  foreseen  that 
such  a  proposal  could  meet  with  no  regard,  the  true  purpose  of 
the  embassy  was  to  secure  a  party  in  the  interest  of  Tarcpiin,  who 
might  cooperate  in  a  meditated  attempt  to  rcNlore  him  to  power; 
and   this   purpose  they  gained  by  a  liberal   employ menl  of  bnbc* 


310  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOKV.  [liOOk     111 

and  |)romiscs.  The  conspiracy,  however,  was  (letocted;  and  il 
was  found  thai  among  tlie  chief  persons  concerned  were  the  two 
sons  of  Brutus,  and  the  nephews  of  Collaiinus.  An  example  was 
now  exhihited,  severely  virtuous  indeed,  hut  which  the  necessity 
of  circunistantes  recpjired  and  justified.  Brutus  himself  sat  in 
judguuint  u|)oii  his  two  sons,  and  condemned  them  to  be  beheaded, 
iiimself  witnessing  their  execution.  Exuil  pulrcm  ul  consulem 
ai^eret,  orbusque  vivere,  quam  publicfc  vindicUc  devesse  maluil.* 
Such  is  the  reflection  of  Valerius  Maximus,  but  ti'.at  of  Livy  is 
more  natural;  he  remarks  that  Brutus,  resolute  as  he  was  in  the 
performance  of  this  severe  duty,  could  not  lay  aside  the  (diaracter, 
nor  suppress  the  feelings  of  a  father.  Quum  inter  omne  tempus 
pater^  vuUmque  el  os  ejus  spcctncido  csset,  eminentc  animo  patrio, 
inter  puhlicni  pitnrc  ministcrium.j  Collaiinus  had  not  streng'Ji  to 
imitate  that  example,  and  his  endeavor  to  avert  the  punishment 
of  his  nephews  procured  his  own  deposition  and  banishment. 

War  was  now  the  last  resource  of  Tarquin;  and,  at  the  head 
of  the  armies  of  Veii  and  Tarquinii,  he  marched  against  the  Ro- 
mans. He  was  met  by  the  consuls  Brutus  and  Publius  Valerius, 
who,  on  the  expulsion  of  Collatiiuis  had  been  chosen  in  his  room, 
and  an  engagement  ensued,  in  which  Brutus  lost  his  life.  The  fate 
of  the  battle  was  doubtful;  but  the  Romans  claimed  the  victory, 
and  Valerius  was  honored  with  a  triumph,  a  ceremony  hencefor- 
ward usually  conferred  on  a  victorious  general  after  a  decisive 
engagement.  A  higher  honor  was  paid  to  the  memory  of  Brutus, 
for  whom  the  whole  city  wore  mourning  for  ten  months. 

So  much  was  the  ardor  of  liberty  kept  alive  by  the  attempts  of 
the  exiled  prince,  and  such  the  jealousy  of  the  Romans,  roused  by 
the  slightest  intlications  of  an  ambitious  spirit  in  any  of  the  citizens, 
that  Valerius,  notwithstanding  the  high  favor  he  enjoyed  on  account 
of  his  public  services,  had,  from  a  few  circumstances  apparently 
of  the  most  trifling  nature,  almost  lost  his  whole  popularity.  He 
had  neglected,  for  some  dme,  to  summon  the  comitia  for  the  elec- 
tion of  a  new  consul,  and  he  had  built  a  splendid  dwelling  for 
himself  on  the  summit  of  the  Palatine  hill,  which  crmmandeda 
prospect  of  the  whole  city — strong  symptoms,  it  was  iliought,  of 
the  most  dangerous  ambition.  Whether,  in  reality,  he  entertained 
such  designs  as  were  attributed  to  him,  may  well  be  doubted;  but 
It  is  generally  believed  that  a  hint  of  his  danger  made  him  at 
once  so  zealous  a  patriot,  and  so  strenuous  a  champion  for  the 
rights  of  the  people,  that  he  thence  acquired  the  ambiguous  sur- 
name  of  Poplicola.     He   pulled  down  his  aspiring   palace,   and 


*  "  He  sacrificed  the  feeling  of  a  father  to  the  oblitrations  of  chief  magistrate, 
and  preferred  a  childless  old  age  to  any  failure  of  his  duty  to  the  state." 

t  "  While  nil  the   time  his  looks  betrayed  the   feelings  of  a  father,  the  pure 
patriotism  of  his  soul  prevailed  in  the  administration  of  public  justice." 


CH.   111. J  PORSE.NA.  31  I 

coiUenteci  himself  with  a  low  mansion  in  an  obscure  (inarter  ol'  the 
cily.  Whenever  he  appeared  in  pnhlic  he  ordered  ihe  consuhr 
fasces  to  be  lowered  before  the  })eople,  and  liie  axes  to  be  laid 
aside,  which  henceforth  were  borne  by  the  lictors  only  without  the 
walls  of  the  city.  He  caused  a  law  to  be  passed,  which  made  it 
death  for  any  citizen  to  aim  at  bein^  kint;;  ;  he  refused  to  take 
custody  of  the  money  le\  ied  for  the  expenses  of  war,  and  caused 
that  charge  to  be  conferred  on  two  of  the  senators.  But  of  all 
sacrifices  to  liberty,  that  which  in  fact  most  materially  enlarged 
the  power  of  the  people  was  a  new  law,  which  j>crmitted  any 
citizen  who  had  been  condemned  to  death  by  a  magistrate,  or 
even  to  banishment,  or  coporal  punishment,  to  appeal  to  the  pco 
pie;  the  sentence  being  suspended  till  their  decision  was 'given 
This  law,  which,  from  the  name  of  its  author  was  termed  Vale- 
rian,  struck  most  severely  against  the  aristocracy  ;  and  from  this 
era  we  may  date  the  commencemeilt  of  the  democratic  constitution 
of  the  Roman  government,      (a.  u.  c.  214. — b.  c.  olO.) 

For  thirteen  years  after  the  expulsion  of  Tarquinius  Superbns, 
the  Romans  were  involved  in  continual  wars  upon  his  account. 
Of  these  the  most  remarkable  was  the  war  with  Porscna,  king  of 
Etruria,  who  had  taken  arms  in  behalf  of  the  exiled  prince.  The 
detail  of  diis  war  by  the  Roman  <vriters  would  be  extremely  unin- 
teresting, were  it  not  embellished  by  some  romantic  stories  which 
have  much  the  air  of  fable.  Such  arc  the  defence  of  a  liridge  by 
Iloralius  Cocks,  single,  against  the  whole  Etrurian  army  ;  the 
attempt  to  assassinate  Porsena  by  J]futiiis  Sc(tvola^  and  the  proof 
he  gave  of  his  fortitude  by  holding  his  hand  in  the  fire  till  it  was 
consumed  ;  the  story  of  Clelia  the  hostage,  and  her  companions, 
who  swam  across  the  Tiber  amidst  a  shower  of  arrows  ; — hcauiiful 
incidents,  but  scarcely  entitled  to  the  credit  of  historical  lacis. 
Such  examples,  however,  of  invincible  resolution  are  said  lo  have 
])roduced  a  striking  eflect  on  the  mind  of  Porsena,  and  to  have 
converted  him  from  an  enemy  into  a  firm  fiiend  auil  ally  of  tho 
Romans.  Tarquin,  nevertheless,  found  still  a  powerful  siqiport 
from  the  external  enemies,  and  doubtless  from  some  of  the  traitor- 
ous subjects  of  the  republic.  Thirty  of  the  states  of  Latiiim  con- 
tinued ^till  in  his  interest,  and  the  war  was  carried  on  with  as  nuch 
animosity  as  ever. 

The  Romans  were  in  a  train  of  success  wIkmi  there  arose  among 
them  such  violent  dissensions  as  had  very  near  caused  the  most 
fatal  consequences.  As  these  domestics  disturbances  continued 
long  to  embroil  the  republic,  and  were  the  source  of  many  import- 
ant revolutions,  it  is  proper  to  consider  their  origin  with  some 
attention. 

We  have  already  seen  that  in  the  time  of  Romulus,  when  the 
first  partition  was  made  of  the  lands,  a  ceriain  proportion  was 
reserved  for  the  public  uses,  ami  the  rest  distribuit-d  among;  the 
people  by  equal  shares  of  two  acres  lo  each  Roman  ciii/,en.     .\ficr- 


312  iiMVKRSAi,  msroiiv.  [book  mi 

wards,  wIkmi  Rome  was  oxtondiiig  her  icrriiory,  new  parliiioiis 
were  made  of  llie  conquered  lands,  but  not  with  llie  same  nnpar 
tiality  and  equality.  A  part  was  reserved  for  the  use  of  the  state, 
but  the  patricians  generally  contrived  to  get  the  rest  into  their 
nands,  allowing  no  share  to  the  inferior  ranks  of  the  people.  These 
abuses  became  more  frequent  from  tlie  time  of  Servius's  new 
arrangement,  which  gave  the  richer  citizens  an  entire  ascendency 
in  the  state,  and  they  increased  still  more  from  the  time  of  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  kings,  when  the  government  became,  as  we  have 
seen,  aristocraticnl.  This  inequality  of  property  continually  increas- 
mg,  and  the  wdigence  of  the  lower  classes  obliging  them  frequently 
to  contract  debts,  ihey  found,  in  a  little  time,  that  they  were 
stripped  by  the  severity  of  their  creditors  even  of  those  inconsid- 
erable pittances  of  land  from  w^hich  they  derived  their  subsistence. 
It  was  one  of  the  early  laws  of  the  Roman  state,  that  a  debtor 
who  was  unable  to  pay  was  ddivcred  as  a  slave  to  his  creditor ; 
he  was  chained  that  he  might  not  escape,  and  was  employed  in 
the  hardest  labor.  The  grievance  was  further  increased  by  this 
flagrant  injustice — that  there  was  no  law  which  limited  the  rate  of 
interest  on  borrowed  money,  so  that  many  of  those  miserable  ple- 
beians, incurring  at  first  a  trifling  debt,  saw  themselves  stripped  of 
all  iliey  possessed,  and  reduced  to  a  state  of  the  most  intolerable 
servitude. 

From  complaints  which  they  found  entirely  disregarded,  they 
proceeded  to  mutiny,  and  to  open  and  violent  expressions  of  their 
indignation  against  the  higher  orders.  The  war  required  new 
levies,  and  the  senate  ordered  that  the  plebeians  should  enroll  and 
arm  in  defence  of  the  common  liberties.  These  peremptorily  re- 
fused the  summons,  declaring  that  they  knew  no  liberties  to  defend, 
since  a  foreign  yoke  could  not  be  more  intolerable  than  the  bondage 
they  experienced  at  home. 

The  senate  was  assembled,  and  the  matter  solemnly  deliberated. 
Some  of  the  higher  order  generously  gave  their  opinion  for  an 
entire  remission  of  the  debts  of  the  poorer  class  of  people  ;  others 
opposed  the  proposal,  as  sanctioning  a  violation  of  faith,  and  a 
criminal  breach  of  legal  obligation.  Ap[)ius  Claudius,  a  violent 
and  proud  patrician,  maintained  that  the  people  suffered  nothing 
more  than  their  deserts,  and  that  if  not  kept  in  poverty  they  would 
DC  for  ever  factious  and  unruly.  Amidst  these  contending  opin- 
ions, the  senate  was  at  a  loss  what  decision  to  pronounce.  An 
alarm  spread  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy  to  attack  the  city,  and 
this  report  gave  fresh  spirit  to  the  populace.  They  persisted  in 
their  refusal  to  enter  the  rolls,  and  declared  that  if  their  grievances 
were  not  immediately  redressed,  they  would  quit  the  city.  The 
consuls  found  their  authority  of  no  avail,  for  the  Valerian  law  had 
given  every  citizen  whom  they  condemned,  a  right  of  aj)pealing  to 
tlie  people. 

To  evade  the  force  of  this  law,  some  extraordinary  measure  wag 


CH.   III. J  APPIUS  CLAUDIUS.  313 

necessary.  The  senate  passed  a  decree  ordaining  the  consuls  to 
lay  down  their  oflice,  and  enacting  that  in  their  room  a  sinjile 
magistrate  should  be  elected  by  the  senate,  and  confirmed  l)y  the 
people,  who  for  six  months  should  be  invested  with  absolute  and 
unlimited  authority.  The  people  were  assembled  in  the  comilia 
by  centuries,  an  arrangement  which,  as  we  have  seen,  threw  the 
whole  power  into  the  hands  of  the  higher  orders,  and  thus  a  decree 
was  easily  obtained  which  ratified  the  ordinance  of  the  senate;  the 
lower  ranks,  perhaps,  flattering  themselves  that  the  new  magistrate 
would  procure  a  redress  of  their  grievances.  This  is  the  first 
instance  of  the  creation  of  a  dictator,  an  expedient  whici  we  shall 
se';  was  afterwards  in  limes  of  necessity  very  frequently  resorted 
to.  The  senate  appointed  one  of  the  consuls,  C/c/»tw,  to  choose 
the  dictator,  (a  form  henceforth  always  observed.)  and  he  named 
to  that  office  his  colleague  Lartius.  The  dictator  chose  for  him- 
self a  lieutenant,  or  magisler  cquilmn;  he  made  the  twenty-four 
lictors  resume  their  axes,  a  sight  which  struck  terror  into  the  peo- 
ple, and  disposed  them  to  submission  and  obedience.  All  the 
citizens,  whose  names  were  called  by  the  dictator,  were  enrolled 
without  a  murmur.  Four  bodies  of  troops  were  formed,  of  which 
one  was  left  for  defence  of  the  city,  and  with  the  other  three  the 
dictator  took  the  field  against  the  enemy.  He  had  some  successes 
against  the  hostile  states,  which  paved  the  way  for  a  truce  for  a  year, 
and,  in  the  meantime,  Lartius  returned  to  Rome  and  abdicated  his 
office.  In  the  year  following,  when  the  war  was  renewed,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  recur  to  the  same  expedient.  Aulus  Postluniiius 
was  chosen  dictator,  who  gained  an  important  victory  near  to  the 
lake  Regillus,  in.  which  the  two  sons  of  Tarquin,  ^extus  and  Titus, 
were  slain.  This  put  an  end  to  all  his  prospects.  He  retired  to 
Cumce  in  Campania,  where  he  died  at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety; 
and  the  allied  states  now  concluded  peace  with  the  Romans  (a.  v. 
c.  257.)  In  this  year  was  held  the  sixth  census,  or  numi^ration  of 
the  Roman  people,  by  which  it  appeared  that  the  nnmber  ol  the 
citizens  capable  of  bearing  arms  was  157,700. 

Till  now,  the  senators  had  seen  the  necessity  of  keejiing  some 
measures  with  the  people,  lest  they  should  exasperate  ihem  into 
the  execution  of  a  design  they  sometimes  expressed  of  calling  back 
the  exiled  Tarquins.  As  this  fear  was  now  at  an  end,  the  inso- 
lence of  the  higher  orders  daily  increased.  Ajjpius  Claudius,  who 
was  at  this  time  consul,  now  openly  avowed  a  resolution  of  lyeak- 
ing  this  mutinous  spirit  of  the  plebeians,  and  reducing  them  to 
absolute  submission.  But  this  policy  was  no  less  absurd  than  it 
was  tyrannical.  The  plebeians,  from  their  vast  superiority  in 
numbers,  had  only  to  follow  a  united  plan,  to  force  the*  higher 
orders  to  compliance  with  any  measure  on  which  they  chose  to 
insist.  A  striking  incident,  which  had  a  jiowerful  eflecJ  on  their 
passions,  gave  them  this  spirit  of  union,  and  exc'tinl  the  most 
violent  ferment  in  the  commonwealth. 
VOL.  I.  40 


514  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOHT.  [rOOK   III 

In  the  midst  of  the  public  assnrnbly,  a  venerable  future,  boary 
with  age,  palo  and  cinaniated,  bis  countenance  iiirrowc'd  uiib 
anguisn,  and  bis  wbole  appearance  expressive  of  misery  and  calam- 
ity, stood  lip  before  tbe  tribnnai  of  the  consuls,  and  prayed  aloud 
for  mel'cy  against  tbe  oppression  of  an  inhuman  creditor.  Disfig- 
ured as  be  was,  his  countenance  was  known,  and  many  remem- 
bered to  have  seen  him  in  tbe  wars,  where  he  fought  with  great 
courage,  and  bad  received  many  honorable  wounds  in  the  service 
of  bis  country.  He  told  his  story  with  afTecting  simplicity.  The 
enemy,  in  an  incursion,  had  ravaged  bis  little  farm,  and  set  fire  to 
.lis  cottage.  Bereft  of  subsistence,  be  had  borrowed,  to  support 
life,  a  small  sum  from  one  of  tbe  rich  citizens;  tbe  interest  bad 
accumulated,  and  being  quite  unable  to  discharge  tbe  debt,  he  had 
delivered  himself  with  two  of  bis  children  into  bondage.  In  this 
situation  he  affirmed  that  his  merciless  creditor  bad  treated  him  as 
the  worst  of  malefactors;  and  throwing  aside  his  garment,  be 
showed  his  back  all  covered  with  blood  from  tbe  recent  strokes  of 
the  whip.* 

This  miserable  sight  roused  the  populace  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  fury.  They  rushed  upon  tbe  consul's  tribunal;  and  Appius 
would  have  been  torn  to  pieces,  had  not  tbe  lictors  cleared  for  him 
a  passage  and  carried  him  off  to  a  place  of  safety.  His  colleague, 
Servilius,  a  man  of  a  moderate  and  humane  spirit,  endeavored 
with  tears  in  bis  eyes  to  appease  the  tumult,  and  pledged  himself 
to  the  people  to  mediate  with  the  senate  in  their  behalf.  Such 
was  tbe  state  of  Rome,  when  an  alarm  was  given  that  the  Volsci 
bad  entered  tbe  territory  of  the  republic.  Tbe  senate  felt  its 
weakness;  they  eaiployed  Servilius  to  treat  with  the  people,  and 
he  gave  them  his  promise  that  their  grievances  should  be  consid- 
ered, and  redressed  as  soon  as  tbe  present  danger  was  removed. 
They  enlisted  themselves  under  bis  standard,  and  marching  against 
the  Volsci,  engaged  and  defeated  them  with  considerable  slaughter. 

It  had  hitherto  been  customary,  after  every  victory,  where  there 
was  an  acquisition  of  booty,  to  reserve  a  part  of  it  for  tbe  use  of 
the  state;  but  Servilius,  on  this  occasion,  had  thought  it  a  wise 
policy  to  conciliate  tbe  troops  by  dividing  the  whole  of  it  among 
them.  Apj)ius,  with  much  indiscretion,  thought  proper  to  accuse 
him  on  that  score  to  the  senate,  and  to  procure  a  vote  of  that  body 
refusing  him  tbe  honor  of  a  triumph.  Servilius  felt  tbe  indignity, 
and  jn  an  assembly  of  tbe  people  in  the  Campus  Martins,  he 
complained  to  them  of  the  senate's  injustice.  The  people  imme 
diately  brought  forth  the  triumphal  car,  and  placing  him  on  it  with 
high  acclamations,  conducted  him  to  the  capitol  with  the  usual 
pomp  of  a  triumph.  But  this  strong  testimony  of  popularity  did 
not  ensure  the  continuance  of  their  favor.     As   Servilius  had  now 


*See  Liv}',  lib.  ii.  c.  23,  wliere  this  incident  is  most  eloquently  related. 


CH.  in.]  MARCUS  VAr.ERirs.  31.5 

lost  all  credit  with  the  senate  by  holding  their  authority  in  defi- 
ance, and  hence  found  himself  unable  to  make  good  his'  promise 
to  the  people  of  a  redress  of  grievances,  lie  soon  became  equally 
obnoxious  to  both  parlies. 

The  disorders,  meantime,  continued  as  violent  as  ever,  and  a 
new  alarm  from  the  enemy  obliged  the  senate  again  to  resort  to 
the  nomination  of  a  dictator.  Marcus  Valerius,  the  brother  of 
Poplicola,  a  man  agreeable  to  the  plebeians,  was  chosen  to  that 
high  oftice;  and  as  his  private  sentiments  were  favorable  to  their 
cause,  he  had  no  scruple  to  engage  his  word  for  a  redress  of  their 
wrongs,  on  condition  of  their  following  his  standard. 

Tlie  enemy  was  subdued,  and  he  now  retjuired  the  senate  to 
fulfil  his  engagements.  But  Appius,  the  stubborn  opponent  of 
every  measure  that  was  favorable  to  the  people,  prevailed  to  have 
this  demand  refused.  There  is,  I  think,  some  question  whether 
the  dictator,  in  virtue  of  that  supreme  power  with  which  he  was 
for  the  time  invested,  could  not  by  his  own  authority  have  enforced 
this  measure,  for  which  his  honor  was  engaged.  But  Valerius 
was  an  old  man,  and  probably  dreaded  the  consequences  of  so 
violent  a  procedure.  He  assembled  the  people,  and,  after  doing 
justice  to  their  bravery  and  patriotism,  he  complained  that  he  was 
not  allowed  to  keep  his  engagements  with  them,  but  declared  that 
his  authority  should  no  longer  countenance  a  breach  of  the  public 
faith,  and  he  immediately  abtlicated  his  office. 

The  people,  thus  repeatedly  and  shamefully  deceived,  were 
determined  to  be  no  longer  the  dupes  of  promises.  The  senate, 
apprehensive  of  their  spirit,  had  ordered  the  consuls  not  to  disband 
them,  but  to  lead  them  without  the  walls,  on  pretence  that  the 
enemy  were  still  in  the  field.  Ti)e  soldiers,  at  the  time  of  their 
enrolment,  took  an  oath  not  to  desert  their  standards  till  they  were 
formally  disbanded;  but  this  oath  they  eluded  by  taking  their 
standards  along  with  them.  Under  Sicinius  Bellutus,  one  of  their 
own  order,  they  marched  with  great  regularity  to  a  hill  at  three 
miles  distance  from  the  city,  afterwards  called,  from  that  occur- 
rence, the  J\[ons  Sacer;  and  here  they  were  in  a  short  time  joined 
by  the  greatest  part  of  the  people.* 

There  can  be  nothing  figured  more  arbitrary  and  more  impolitic 
than  tlie  proceedings  of  the  senate.  Their  pride  was  now  hum- 
bled; they  found  there  was  a  necessity  for  adopting  the  most 
lenient  and  conciliatory  measures;  and  they  deputed  some  of  the 
most  respectable  of  their  order,  who,  after  a  dilficult  and  labored 
negotiation,  were  compelled  at  length  to  grant  the  people  all  they 
demanded.  The  debts  were  solemnly  abolished;  and  for  the 
security  of  the  people  in  time  to  come,  and  a  warrant  against  all 
new  aitemps  or  modes  of  ojipression,  they  were  allowed  the  right 


"  Dion.  Hal.,lil).  v  ,  F/ivy,  lib.  ii.,  c   :?•,». 


316  UNIVEKSAI,    mSTOKY.  [nOOK   MI. 

of  cnoosing  magistrates  from  their  own  order,  wlio  should  have  the 
power  of  o|)])osing  with  effect  every  measure  which  they  might 
iii(lii;('  ill  any  shnjie  prejudicial  to  their  interest. 

These  new  mngislrales  \\cv%  to  he  elected  aniuially,  like  tht 
consuls.  Thoy  were  five  in  number,*  and  were  termed  IribtineSy 
because  the  first  of  tlioin  were  chosen  from  among  the  trihum 
militum  of  the  (liderent  legions.  They  had  the  power  of  suspend- 
ing, by  a  single  v  to,  the  execution  of  any  decree  of  the  senate 
which  they  judged  prejudicial  to  the  interest  of  the  people;  they 
were  not  allowed,  however,  to  interfere  in  the  deliberations  of  that 
body,  nor  jjermitted  even  to  enter  the  senate-house.  The  persons 
of  these  magistrates  were  declared  sacred;  but  their  auihorily  was 
confined  within  the  bounds  of  the  city  and  a  mile  beyond  the  walls. 
The  tribunes  demanded  two  magistrates  to  aid  them  in  tiieir  office, 
and  this  recpiest  was  likewise  granted.  These  were  called  Jluliles, 
from  the  charge  given  them  of  the  public  buildings;  and  afterwards 
ihey  had  likewise  the  care  of  the  games,  spectacles,  and  other 
matters  of  police  within  the  city. 

The  creation  of  the  Tribunes  of  the  People  is  the  era  of  a 
change  in  the  Roman  constitution.  The  Valerian  law  had  given  a 
severe  blow  to  the  aristocracy,  or  party  of  the  patricians;  and  the 
creation  of  popular  magistrates  with  such  high  powers  had  now 
plainly  converted  the  government  into  a  democracy.  Had  the 
people  been  mildly  dealt  with,  the  desire  of  a  revolution  had  never 
taken  place,  and  the  patricians  might  have  enjoyed  their  ascendency 
in  the  state,  to  which  lime  would  always  have  given  new  confirma- 
tion. But  the  violence  and  unruly  passions  of  a  few  leading  men 
are  capable  of  embroiling  the  most  peaceful  community,  and 
awakening  causes  of  discontent  and  jealousy  which  otherwise 
would  have  had  no  existence.  The  tyrannizing  spirit  of  Appius 
Claudius,  and  the  stubbornness  of  that  faction  of  the  rich  who 
supported  him,  drove  the  peoj)le  at  length  to  desperate  measures, 
and  gave  rise  to  that  formidable  and  resistless  opposition  of  which 
we  have  seen  the  effects.  "  ' 

A  strong  degree  of  jealousy  had,  from  the  first  institution  of  the 
commonwealth,  begun  to  rankle  in  the  breasts  of  the  ))lebeians 
against  the  higher  order.  They  saw,  with  a  very  natural  indig- 
nation, that  the  patricians  had  supplanted  them  in  all  the  offices 
of  power  and  emolument;  for,  though  there  was  a  nominally  free 
election  to  those  offices  in  which  the  whole  people  had  a  right  ot 
suffi-age,  yet  this,  from  causes  already  sufficiently  explained,  was 
in  practice  illusory.  But  the  immediate  cause  of  things  coming 
to  an  open  rupture  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  intolerable  burden 
of  the  debts   owing   by  the  poor   to   the    rich.     This  grievance 


About  thirtj'  years  after,  their  number  was  increased  to  ten.  and  it  so  coiitin 
aed  ever  afterwards. 


-"•    III.]  PLEBEIANS    AND    PATRICIANS.  317 

became  at  length  so  general,  from  the  frequency  of  the  military 
campaigns,  in  which  every  soldier  was  obliged  to  serve  at  his  own 
charges,  and  from   the  ravages    committed    on    the    lands  by  the 
hostile  armies,  which  reduced  the  jjoorer  sort  entirely  to  bosiirarv, 
that  the  plebeians  began  to  look    upon  their  order   as  born  to' a 
state  of  hereditary  servitude.      Hence  that  desperate  measure  of 
abandoning  the  city  and  encamping  in  arms  upon  the  Jfons   Sacer. 
All  that  the  people  at    this    time    desired   was  not  power,  but  a 
relief  from  oppression  and  cruelty.     And  had  this  just  claim  been 
readily  listened  to,  and  a  relief  granted  to  them,  if  not  by  an  entire 
abolition  of  the  debts,  at  least  by  repressing  the  enormous  usury, 
and  taking  away  the  inhunlan    rights    of  slarery  and  of  corporal 
punishment,  this  people  would,  in  all  probability,  have  chcerfullv 
returned  to  order  and    submission,    and    the   Roman    conslitniiou 
might  long  have    remained,  what    we    have    seen  it    was  at  first, 
aristocraiical.      But  a   torrent    imprudently   resisted    will    in    time 
acquire  that    impetuous  force    which   carries    every    thing   before 
it.     The  patricians,  sensible  that   they  had    pushed  matters  to  a 
most  alarming    extreme,    and  now    thoroughly    intimidated,    were 
obliged  to  grant  the  demand  of  creating  popular  magistrates.     The 
tribunate  being  once  established,  we  shall  sec  it  become  the  main 
object  with  these    magistrates  to    increase    their  own    powers  by 
continual  demands  and  bold  encroachments.     The  people,  regard- 
ing them  as  the  champions  of  their  rights,  are  delighted  to  find 
themselves  gradually  approaching  to  an    equality  with  the  higher 
order;  and  no  longer  bounding  their  desires  to  ease  and  security, 
become  soon  equally  influenced    by  ambition    as  their  superiors, 
while  that  passion  in  them  is  the  less  subject  to  control  that  they 
have  more    to  gain  and  less  to  lose.      While  this    people,  borne 
down  ljy  hardships  and  oppression,  seek  no  more  than  the  redress 
of  real  grievances  and  a  share  of  ease  and  happiness  as  the  mem- 
bers of  a  free  state,  we  applaud  their  sj)irito(l  exertions,  and  exe- 
crate that  arbitrary  and    inhuman    principle    which    prompted  ilio 
higher  order  to  treat  them  as  slaves  or  inferior  beings.      But  when 
we  behold  this  people    compassing  at  length    by  a  vigorous  and 
manly  resistance    the    end    they    wished    for — attaining    case    anci 
security,  nay  power,  which  at  first  they  had  not  sought,  and  ne\  i-r 
dreamed  of;  when  we  see  them,  after  this,  increasins;  in  their  de- 
mands, assuming  all    that   arrogance    they   justly    blamed    before, 
goaded  on  by  the  ambition  of  their  leaders  to  aim  at  tyranni/.iin; 
in  their  turn — we  view  with  proper    discrimination  the  love  of 
liberty  and  its  extreme,  licentiousness;  and  treat  with  just  detesta- 
tion the  authors  of  those  pernicious  measures,  which  embroiled  the 
state  in  endless  factions,  and  paved  the  way  for  a  total  loss  of  that 
liberty  which  this  deluded   proj)le  knew  not  to  put  a  true  value 
upon  when  they  actually  possessed  it. 

Some  authors,  and  among  the  rest  the  Abb*'   Condillac,  pretend 
lO  find  in  those  perpetual  dissensions  and  violent  struggles  between 


318  UNIVKRSAL    HISTOaV.  [nOOK    III 

the  patrician  aiul  |)l(;l)ciaii  orders  at  Rome,  llic  true  cause  of  llie 
glorious  and  pro(lit2;ious  extension  of  lior  empire,  and  of  all  lier 
subsequent  grandeur  and  prosjierity.  Tliis,  thfjugli  not  an  uncom- 
mon mode  of  reasoning,  is  by  far  more  specious  than  it  is  solid. 
[  would  ask  what  shadow  of  necessary  connection  there  is  between 
the  factious  disorders,  and  internal  convulsions  of  a  state,  and  the 
extension  of  her  empire  by  foreign  conquest?  On  the  contrary, 
it  seems  a  self-evident  proposition,  that  while  the  one  spirit  exists, 
the  other  for  the  time  is  extinguished,  or  lies  altogether  dormant; 
for  the  ambition  of  domestic  rule  cannot  otherwise  be  gratified  than 
by  a  constant  and  servile  attention  to  the  arts  of  popularity,  incom- 
jialible  with  the  generous  passion  which  leads  to  national  aggran- 
dizement. Tile  people  too,  won  only  by  corruption,  and  split  by 
rival  demagogues  into  factions,  imbittered  against  each  other  with 
the  most  rancorous  hostilities,  are  incapable  of  that  cordial  union 
to  which  every  foreign  enterprise  must  owe  its  success.  The 
martial  spirit  may,  no  doubt,  be  kept  alive,  and  find  improving 
exercise  in  a  civil  war  or  rebellion;  but  this  spirit  finds  too  much 
exercise  at  home,  to  seek  for  employment  in  foreign  conquests; 
and  in  the  breasts  of  the  leading  men,  those  selfish  motives,  either 
of  avarice  or  the  love  of  power,  which  are  commonly  the  sources 
of  all  civil  disorders,  are  baneful  to  every  generous  and  patriotic 
feeling,  which  seeks  alone  the  true  greatness  or  glory  of  the 
state. 

In  the  present  case,  the  true  causes  of  the  wonderful  extension 
of  the  Roman  empire  will  be  sought  in  vain,  in  the  perpetual 
contests  between  the  higher  and  the  lower  orders.  These,  instead 
of  being  productive  of  national  aggrandizement,  were  the  imme- 
diate causes  of  the  fall  of  the  commonwealth  and  the  ruin  of  civil 
liberty.  The  main  source  of  the  extension  of  the  empire  by  its 
conquests,  is  to  be  found  in  the  extraordinary  abilities  of  a  few 
great  men,  who,  either  in  a  subordinate  station  had  too  much 
worth  to  prefer  a  selfish  interest  to  the  glory  of  their  country,  or 
who,  spurning  the  more  confined  object  of  superior  power  at  home, 
proposed  to  themselves  a  nobler  and  more  glorious  aim  by  extend- 
i\ig  the  limits  of  that  empire  which  they  ruled  as  sovereigns. 

It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  other  causes,  likewise,  contributed  to 
the  aggrandizement  of  the  Roman  empire.  Several  of  these  have 
been  pointed  out  by  Montesquieu.  Such  was,  among  others,  the 
very  power  of  those  enemies  they  had  to  encounter;  a  power 
which  must  either  have  entirely  oppressed  and  annihilated  them, 
or  forced  them  to  that  most  vigorous  and  animated  exertion  to 
which  they  owed  their  successes.  Such  enemies  were  the  Gauls, 
the  Macedonians  under  Pyrrhus,  and  the  Carthaginians  under 
Hannibal.  So  far  were  the  factions  of  the  state  from  being  the 
cause  of  those  successes,  and  that  rapid  extension  of  empire,  that 
t  was  thr  formidable  power  of  such  external  enemies  that,  lulling 


CU.  IV.]  TRIBUNES  OF  THE  PEOPLE,  319 

asleep  for  the  time  every  source  of  domestic  liiction  and  disorder, 
enabled  tlie  republic  to  employ  its  whole  strength,  and  make  those 
spirited  efTorts  to  which  it  owed  its  most  glorious  successes. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

/i\crca:e  of  the  power  of  the  Tribunes — They  convoke  an  assembly  of  the  Peo 
pie — Coriolanus  —  Disputes  on  the  Aijrarian  Law  —  Law  of  Volero  —  and 
change  produced  by  it. 

The  disorders  which  we  have  seen  allayed  by  the  creation  of  the 
tribunes  of  the  people,  were  only  quieted  for  a  very  short  space  of 
time.  We  shall  see  them  immediately  renewed,  and  continued, 
with  very  little  interruption,  till  the  people  acquired  an  etpial  title 
with  the  patricians  to  all  the  offices  and  dignities  of  the  common- 
wealth. Thus,  for  a  period  of  almost  two  centuries,  the  history 
of  Rome,  during  every  succeeding  year,  presents  almost  the  same 
scenes  ;  an  endless  reiteration  of  complaints,  on  account  of  the 
same  or  similar  grievances;  opposed  by  the  same  spirit,  resisted 
by  similar  arguments,  and  usually  terminating  in  the  same  way, 
to  the  increase  of  the  popular  power.  As  our  object  is  to  give 
rather  a  just  idea  of  the  character  and  spirit  of  nations,  than  a 
scrupulous  detail,  or  minute  chronicle  of  events,  we  shall,  in  that 
period,  touch  only  on  such  circiunstances  as,  while  they  are  illus- 
trative of  the  genius  of  the  peojile,  are  necessary  to  form  a  con- 
nected chain  of  the  principal  events  which  had  their  inniience  on 
the  revolutions  and  fate  of  this  Republic. 

The  first  tribunes  of  the  people  were  created  2G0  years  after 
(he  foundation  of  Rome,  and  seventeen  years  after  the  abolition  of 
the  regal  government.  These  magistrates  were  habited  like  sim- 
l)le  citizens  ;  they  had  no  exterior  ensigns  of  power  ;  they  had 
noiiljcr  tribunal  nor  jurisdiction  as  judges;  they  had  no  guards  nor 
attendants,  unless  a  single  domestic  ternvd  llatnr  or  .Ipparitnr. 
They  stood  without  the  senate-house,  nor  durst  they  enter  it  unless 
they  were  called  in  by  the  consuls:  but  possessing,  as  we  have  said, 
the  power  of  suspending  or  annulling,  by  a  single  veto,  the  niosi 
solemn  decrees  of  that  body,  their  influence  and  authority  were 
very  great. 

Every  thing,  for  a  littli-  while,  wore  an  appearance  of  irnnqiiil- 
lity.  The  senators  blindly  applaudcil  thcmscdves  on  the  success 
of  their  negotiation,  as  they  saw  the  people  pleased,  and  could  sea 


320  UMVEllSAI.    IIISTOKV.  [iJOOK    II.. 

nolhlng  to  foar  from  those  nulc  and  simple  inagistratcs,  who  liacJ 
not  even  the  outward  symbols  of  power  But  this  delusion  was 
of  short  continuance. 

It  was  in  the  beginning  of  spring,  that  the  people  liad  retreated 
to  the  Mons  Sacer;  at  a  time  when  it  was  customary  to  plough 
and  sow  the  fields  of  the  republic.  As  the  lands  had  lain  neg- 
lected during  those  commotions,  it  was  not  surprising  that  the  fol- 
lowing harvest  should  be  a  season  of  great  scarcity.  This,  \)er- 
haps,  the  senate,  by  proper  precautions,  might  have  prevented. 
The  tribunes  accused  that  body  of  negligence,  and  of  a  design  to 
raise  a  famine  among  the  people,  while  the  patricians,  as  they 
insinuated,  had  taken  care  of  themselves,  by  laying  in  abundant 
supplies. 

The  consuls  assembled  the  people,  and  attempted  to  justify  tlie 
senate  ;  but  being  constantly  interrupted  by  the  tribunes,  they 
could  not  make  themselves  be  heard.  They  urged,  that  the  tri- 
bunes having  only  the  liberty  of  opposing,  ought  to  be  silent  till 
a  resolution  was  formed.  The  tribunes,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
tended that  they  had  the  same  privileges  in  an  assembly  of  the 
people  that  the  consuls  had  in  a  meeting  of  the  senate.  The  dis- 
pute was  running  high,  when  one  of  the  consuls  rashly  said,  that 
if  the  tribunes  had  convoked  the  assembly,  they,  instead  of  inter- 
rupting them,  would  not  even  have  taken  the  trouble  of  coining 
there  ;  but  that  the  consuls  having  called  this  assembly,  they  ought 
not  to  be  interrupted.  This  imprudent  speech  was  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  a  power  in  the  tribunes  to  convoke  the  public  assemblies; 
a  power  which  they  themselves  had  never  dreamt  of.  It  may  be 
believed  they  were  not  remiss  in  laying  hold  of  the  concession. 
They  took  the  whole  people  to  witness  what  had  been  said  by 
the  consuls,  and  an  assembly  of  the  people  was  summoned,  by  the 
tribunes,  to  meet  the  next  day.* 

The  whole  people  assembled  by  daybreak.  Icilius,  one  of  the 
tribunes,  urged  that,  in  order  that  they  might  be  in  a  capacity  of 
effectually  fulfilling  their  duty,  in  protecting  and  vindicating  the 
rights  of  the  people,  they  should  have  the  power,  not  only  of 
calling  them  together,  but  of  haranguing  them  without  being  fjub- 
ject  to  any  interruption.  The  people  were  unanimously  of  this 
opinion  ;  and  a  law  to  that  purpose  was  instantly  passed  by  general 
acclamation.  The  consuls  would  have  rejected  this  law,  on  the 
score  of  the  assembly's  being  held  against  all  the  established  forms: 
— it  had  not  been  legally  summoned,  and  there  had  been  no  con- 
sultation of  the  auspices;  but  the  tribunes  declared  that  they  would 
pay  no  more  regard  to  the  decrees  of  the  senate,  than  the  consuls 
and  the  senate  should  pay  to  those  of  the  people.  The  senate 
was  forced  to  yield,  and  the  new  law  was  ratified  by  the  consent 


"Dion  Hal.  1.  c.     Liv.  lib.  ii.     Plutarch  in  Coriol 


CH.    IV.]  COKIOLA.VUS.  321 

of  both  orders.  Thus  there  were  now  established  in  the  republic 
two  separate  legislative  powers,  which  maintained  a  constant  oi)po 
sition  to  each  other. 

There  was  but  one  method  by  which  the  senate  miglit,  per- 
haps, have  recovered  their  power.  This  was,  by  exercising  their 
authority  with  such  moderation,  and  so  much  regard  to  the  inter- 
ests of  the  people,  as  to  render  the  functions  of  the  tribune? 
superfluous.  But  this  was  a  diflicult  part  to  act.  Being  once 
supreme,  they  could  not  stoop  to  an  abasement  of  j)ower,  and  in- 
flexibly struggling  to  maintain  a  prerogative  which  they  wanted  real 
strength  to  vindicate,  they  prepared  Itjr  themselves  only  a  greater 
humiliation. 

One  of  the  most  violent  of  the  senators  was  Calus  Marcius 
surnamed  Coriolanus,  from  a  successful  campaign  he  had  madt 
against  the  Volsci,  in  which  he  had  taken  Corioli,  one  of  their 
principal  towns.  Coriolanus  had  aspired  to  the  consulate,  but 
the  people,  fearing  his  high  and  arrogant  spirit,  had  excluded  him 
from  that  dignity.  Incensed  at  this  disappointment,  he  took  every 
opportunity  of  expressing  his  resentment;  and  in  particular,  de- 
clared openly  in  the  senate,  that  the  necessities  of  the  people, 
occasioned  by  the  present  famine,  furnished  an  opportunity  which 
ought  not  to  be  neglected,  of  compelling  them  to  relimpiish  all 
pretensions  to  authority,  and  to  abolish  their  new  magistrates. 

The  people,  exasperated  beyond  measure,  vowed  vengeance 
against  Coriolanus,  and  they  summoned  him  to  appear  before 
them,  and  answer  for  his  conduct.  He  refused,  and  the  .^^diles 
had  orders  to  arrest  him,  but  were  rejiulsed  in  the  attempt  by  hi'< 
partisans  among  the  patricians.  In  a  tumultuous  assenibly  of  the 
people,  one  of  the  tribunes  proceederl,  with  a  daring  stn'trh  of 
authority,  to  pronounce  Coriolanus  guilty  of  treason,  and  award  a 
ca|)ital  punisliinent:  but  the  people  themselves  were  sensible  that 
this  was  going  too  far;  they  repealed  this  precipitate  sentence; 
allowed  him  twenty-seven  days  to  prepare  his  defence,  and  sum- 
moned him  to  appear  before  their  assembly  after  the  lapse  of  that 
term . 

During  this  interval  the  consuls  and  the  chief  senators,  who  saw 
the  dangerous  ct>usequences  of  violent  measures,  endeavored,  by 
persuasion,  to  promote  a  good  understanding  between  the  orders. 
They  labored  to  convince  the  tribunes  that  it  had  hitherto  been 
the  constant  practice,  and  agreeable  to  the  constitution  of  the 
republic,  that  every  public  measure  should  originate  by  a  motion 
in  the  senate,  and  that  till  this  body  had  given  a  decree,  no  business 
of  state  could  be  agitated  in  the  assembly  of  the  people.  The 
tribunes  did  not  acquiesce  in  these  propositions:  they  contended 
that  the  authority  of  the  people  was  cot'trdinate  with  that  of  tlw^ 
senate;  and  that — the  Valerian  law  having  ordained  a  ri-lit  ol 
appeal  to  the  people  from  the  senate,  and  all  magistrates— tlirt 
must,  of  course,  possess  the  right  •^f  citing  i)efore  them  any  ciii/.eni 

VOL.   I  41 


322  UNIVKIISAL     HISIOUV.  [nOOK     III 

who  liad  olfuncled.  The  afTair  was  of  difllciilt  decision,  in  the 
uncomplying  teniper  in  which  parties  then  stood  It  was,  how- 
ever, ihds  coniproniised  for  the  present.  Tlie  tribunes  agreed  to 
make  their  complaint  against  Coriolanus  in  the  senate,  and  that 
body  consented,  on  their  part,  to  refer  the  consideration  of  the 
cause  back  to  the  assembly  of  the  people.  This  course,  accord 
ingly,  was  adopted.  The  senate  admitted  the  importance  (if 
proved)  of  the  charges  j)referred  to  their  body  by  the  tribune?, 
and  ordained  Coriolanus  to  appear  and  answer  in  the  assembly  of 
the  people.  They  were  desirous,  however,  of  procuring  this 
assembly  to  be  convoked  by  centuries;  by  which  means  they 
flattered  themselves  with  an  entire  ascendant,  which  would  ensure 
the  acquittal  of  their  member:  but  the  people  would  not  consent 
to  it;  the  votes  were  called  in  the  order  of  the  tribes;  and  Corio- 
lanus was  condemned  to  perpetual  exile. 

lie  now  proposed  to  himself  a  |)lan  of  vengeance,  in  the  last 
degree  ignominious,  and  which  no  injuiies  an  individual  can  receive 
are  suflicient  to  justify.  He  repaired  to  the  camp  of  the  Volscians, 
and  offered  his  services  to  the  determined  enemies  of  his  country. 
They  w-ere  accepted;  and  such  was  the  consequence  of  his  abili- 
ties as  a  general,  that  Rome,  in  the  space  of  a  few  months,  was 
reduced  to  extremity.  The  people  now  demanded  that  the  senate 
should  repeal  their  decree  of  banishment;  but  that  body,  with 
a  laudable  firmness,  declared  that  they  would  grant  no  terms  to  a 
rebel  while  in  arms  against  his  sovereign  state.  The  importunity 
of  the  populace,  however,  so  far  prevailed,  that  a  deputation,  con- 
sisting of  five  persons  of  consular  dignity,  and  his  own  relations, 
was  sent  to  propose  terms  of  accommodation.  Coriolanus  haugh- 
tily answered,  that  he  would  never  consent  to  treat  of  peace,  till 
the  Romans  should  restore  whatever  they  possessed  of  the  Vol- 
scian  territory,  and  be  allowed  the  space  of  thirty  days  to  consider 
of  ti)is  proposition.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  appeared  again 
with  his  army  under  the  walls  of  the  city.  The  senate  maintained 
an  inflexible  resistance  to  the  demands  of  the  traitor,  and  to  the 
popular  clamor.  At  length  a  band  of  Roman  matrons,  at  the 
head  of  which  was  Veturia,  the  mother  of  Coriolanus,  with  his 
tvife  and  children,  repaired  to  the  camp  of  the  enemv,  and  sud- 
.ienly  presented  themselves  at  the  feet  of  Coriolanus.  The  severity 
of  fiis  nature  was  not  proof  against  this  last  appeal.  He  consented 
'o  lay  down  his  arms;  he  ordered  his  troops  to  retire;  and  thus 
Rome  owed  her  safety  to  the  tears  of  a  woman. 

There  are  few  historical  events  (so  called)  which  give  more 
room  for  skepticism  than  this  story  of  Coriolanus.  If  we  should 
admit  that  the  resentment  of  his  wrongs  might  have  hurried  a 
high-spirited  Roman  into  a  conduct  so  utterly  disgraceful — and 
moreover  so  dangerous,  whi'e  his  mother,  his  wife,  and  all  hi:, 
kindred  were  hostages  in  the  Iir.ids  of  his  countrymen, — how  can 
we  believe  'ha:  Rome,  ever  superior  as  we  have  seen  ner  to  iho 


CH.   IV]  AGRARIAN   I.AW.  323 

petty  states  which  were  her  enemies,  should,  during  the  whole 
time  of  this  lengthened  negotiation,  have  taken  no  efl'ective  mea- 
sures of  resistance  or  defence ;  that  we  should  neither  find  a 
Roman  general  nor  a  Roman  army  in  the  fielfl  to  check  the  tri- 
umphant pride  of  this  traitor  to  his  country  ;  that  the  Volscians — 
who,  three  years  before,  were  so  weakened  by  a  pestilence,  that 
Velitne,  one  of  their  most  flourishing  towns,  would  have  beep 
entirely  annihilated,  but  for  the  supply  of  a  colony  of  Roman 
citizens — should  have  now  become  so  powerful  as  to  strike  terror 
and  dismay  into  the  Roman  state,  and  compel  her  to  that  mean 
act  of  supplication,  to  which,  we  are  told,  she  owed  her  escape 
from  destruction  ?  If  there  is  any  truth  in  a  story  so  void  of  pro- 
bability, there  is  only  one  circumstance  truly  deserving  of  atten- 
tion— the  striking  contrast  between  the  conduct  of  the  senate  and 
that  of  the  people.  The  people — fluctuating  in  their  opinions, 
and  ever  in  extremes — the  one  day,  in  the  height  of  exasperation 
against  Coriolanus  for  an  offence  against  themselves,  condemn  him 
to  perpetual  exile  ;  and  the  next,  ignominiously  entreat  his  for- 
giveness and  deprecate  his  resentment.  The  senate — who,  before 
his  condemnation,  alarmed  at  what  they  thought  a  stretch  of  power 
in  the  peojjle,  would  have  done  every  thing  to  save  him,  yet,  sen- 
tence being  once  ))assed,  conscious  that  the  honor  of  the  republic 
was  her  most  valuable  possession,  which  no  danger  ought  to  com- 
pel its  guardians  to  betray — could  by  no  entreaties  be  swayed  to 
make  concessions  to  a  rebel  in  arms  against  his  country.  AVhile 
such  were  the  sentiments  of  her  chief  magistrates,  Rome,  weak 
and  defenceless  as  we  are  told  she  was,  continues  still  to  command 
respect  and  admiration. 

Historians  arc  not  agreed  as  to  the  fate  of  Coriolanus —  a  circum- 
stance which  renders  the  whole  of  his  history  more  siis|>irious. 
According  to  some  authors,  he  was  assassinated  by  the  VoNrians, 
n  revenge  for  his  defection  ;  according  to  others,  he  languished 
out  his  days  among  them  in  melancholy  obscurity.  It  has  never 
been  asserted  seriously  that  he  returned  to  Rome. 

The  dissensions  between  the  orders  with  which  the  Roman 
republic  was  destined  to  be  for  ever  embroiled,  were  now  rekindled 
from  a  new  cause  of  controversy.  This  was  an  agrarian  law,  a 
measure  proposed  at  first  bv  Cassius,  one  of  the  consuls,  from 
motives  of  selfish  ambition.  He  aimed  at  nothing  less  than  supreme 
power  ;  and  he  proposed  this  measure  of  an  ecpial  partition  of  all 
the  lands  which  had  been  at  any  time  won  from  the  enemy,  as  the 
most  probable  means  of  acquiring  the  favor  of  the  people.  But  he 
was  too  precipitate  ;  his  views  were  suspected,  and  the  tribunes 
gave  the  alarm.  They  could  not  bear  that  pojMilar  measures  should 
be  proposed  by  any  but  themselves  ;  they  adopted  the  scheme  of 
Cassius  ;  but  persuaded  the  people  that  what  was  an  iniere.<:ted 
measure  upon  his  part,  tliey  were  determined  to  prosecute  for  ihfl 
Dublic  good 


3'J4  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  ]  BOOK   III 

T'lO  senate,  jealous  of  the  tribunes,  and  sufllcienlly  aware  ol 
the  views  of  Cassius,  were  resolved  themselves  to  preocenpy  the 
ground.  They  passed  a  decree  that  an  inquiry  should  he  made 
as  to  those  conquered  lands  which  had  at  any  time  been  adjudged 
to  belong  to  the  |)ublic  ;  that  a  part  should  be  reserved  for  the  com- 
mon pasturage  of  cattle,  and  that  the  rest  should  be  distributed  to 
such  of  the  plebeians  as  had  eidier  no  lands,  or  but  a  small  propor- 
tion. Yet  this  was  all  a  piece  of  artifice  on  the  part  of  the  higher 
orders.  They  had  no  mind  that  this  decree  should  ever  be  carried 
into  cfiect.  They  subjoined  to  it  a  clause  that  the  consules  desig- 
nnti.,  or  those  who  were  next  year  to  enter  upon  that  office,  should 
name  decemviri  for  making  the  necessary  investigation  and  following 
forth  the  decree. 

This  measure  of  an  agrarian  laio  we  shall  observe,  from  this 
time  forward,  to  be  a  source  of  domestic  dissensions,  down  to  the 
very  end  of  the  commonwealth.  Cassius  was  the  first  proposer 
of  it,  and  it  cost  him  his  life.  His  office  of  consul  was  no  sooner 
at  an  end,  than  he  was  solemnly  accused  of  aspiring  at  royalty  ; 
and,  by  sentence  of  the  popular  assembly,  he  was  thrown  from 
the  Tarpeian  Rock,  the  usual  punishment  of  treason.  Soon  after- 
wards, Menius,  one  of  the  tribunes,  brought  on  the  cons'ideratio5 
of  the  law.  He  called  on  the  consuls  to  nominate  the  decemviri  , 
and  on  their  refusal,  he  opposed  the  levies  which  the  consuls  had 
ordered  to  be  made  on  account  of  a  war  with  the  Mqin  and  Volsci. 
The  consuls  adopted  a  very  violent  procedure  :  they  quitted  the 
city,  and  established  their  tribunal  without  the  jurisdict)on  of  the 
tribunes.  Thither  they  summoned  the  people  to  attend  them, 
and  to  give  up  their  names  to  be  enrolled.  They  lefused  to 
obey  ;  on  w^hich  the  consuls  ordered  their  lands  to  be  ravaged, 
and  their  flocks  carried  off.  This  had  its  desired  effect  ;  but  so 
violent  a  measure  was  never  again  attempted.  A  more  sure  and 
less  dangerous  expedient  was  afterwards  followed,  which  was,  to 
divide  the  tribunes.  One  tribune  could,  by  his  veto^  oppose  or 
suspend  any  decree  ;  but  if  another  opposed  him,  the  veto  was  of 
no  effect.  Icilius,  one  of  the  tribunes,  having  opposed  the  form 
ing  of  the  levies,  his  four  colleagues,  gained  over  by  the  senate, 
took  the  opposite  side  ;  and  it  was  therefore  agreed  that  the  con- 
sideration of  the  agrarian  law  should  be  postponed  till  the  termina- 
tion of  the  war. 

When  that  period  arrived,  the  contest  was  again  renewed 
The  tribunes  brought  on  the  consideration  of  the  law^ ;  they  de- 
manded why  the  last  consuls  had  not  named  decemviri;  and  they 
even  pretended  to  call  them  to  account  and  to  punish  them  for 
this  omission.  Genucius,  a  tribune,  summoned  the  consuls  of  tl«> 
current  year  to  execute  the  decree  which  had  been  so  long  neg 
lected.  They  refused,  on  pretence  that  a  decree  of  the  senate, 
when  not  executed  by  those  consuls  to  whom  it  was  directed, 
was  held  to  be  abroprated.     Genucius  then  sun^moned  -the  consuls 


CH.    IV. J  VOLEUO.  885 

of  the  preceding  year  to  answer  Tor  their  conduct,  and  vowed,  as 
is  said,  that  he  would  prosecute  them  to  his  latest  breath.  They 
took  care  that  he  should  keep  his  word,  for  the  next  day  he  wu> 
found  dead  in  his  bed.  The  ])eople  were  made  to  regard  this  as 
a  judgment  of  the  gods,  who  thus  ex|)resscd  their  disapprobaiiou 
of  the  schemes  of  this  factious  tribune  ;  and  his  colleagues  were 
niimidated  for  some  time  f  om  prosecuting  his  views;  not  less, 
perhaps,  from  the  a[)prehension  of  human  than  of  divine  vengeance. 

The  consuls  and  senate,  trusting  to  the  effect  of  this  example, 
assumed  a  more  rigid  audiority,  and  the  levies  were  made  wi:h 
severe  exactness.  Among  those  whom  the  consuls  had  enrolled 
as  a  common  soldier,  was  a  |)lebeian  nanied  Volcro,  who,  in  a 
former  cam[)aign,  had  been  a  cenlurion,  and  was  esteemed  a  good 
ofiicer.  He  complained  of  the  injustice  done  him  in  thus  degra- 
ding him,  and  refused  to  oh(>y.  The  consuls  ordered  him  to  be 
scourged,  from  which  sentence  he  appealed  to  the  people.  One 
of  the  consular  lictors  endeavoring  to  arrest  him  was  beaten  oil'; 
and  the  people,  tumuliuously  taking  his  part,  broke  the  fasces  and 
drove  the  consuls  out  of  the  foiiim.  The  senate  was  immedi- 
ately assembled,  and  ihe  consuls  demanded  that  Volero  shoulil  be 
thrown  from  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  The  plebeians,  on  the  other 
hand,  called  for  justice  against  the  consuls  for  a  breach  of  the 
Valerian  law,  in  disregarding  Volero 's  a[)peal  to  the  people  ;  and 
the  contest  lasted  till  the  election  of  the  annual  magistrates,  when 
Volero  was  chosen  one  of  the  tribunes.  The  person  of  a  tribune 
was  sacred,  and  that  of  a  consul,  when  out  of  oflice,  was  not  so  ; 
but  Volero  did  not  choose  to  limit  his  vengeance  to  the  two  con- 
suls ;  the  whole  senate  was  the  object  of  his  resentment,  and  he 
resolved  to  strike  a   blow  which  they  should   never  recover. 

The  election  of  the  tribunes  of  the  per)ple  had  hitherto  been 
held  in  the  comilia  curiala.  Volero  urged  that  as  these  con)itia 
could  not  be  summoned  but  by  a  decree  of  the  senate,  that  body 
might,  on  various  pretences,  postpone  or  refuse  to  summon  them  ; 
that  the  previous  ceremony  of  consulting  the  auspices  was  neces- 
sary, and  these  the  priests,  who  were  tiie  augurs,  could  interpret 
jn  any  manner  they  chose  ;  and  that,  );vstiy,  it  was  always  held 
necessary  that  whatever  was  done  in  those  assemblies  should  be 
confiinKMl  by  a  decree  of  the  senate.  He  represented  all  these 
formaiilies  as  being  nothing  else  than  restrictions  imposed  by  the 
senate  on  the  popular  deliberations — and  proposed  that  henceforth 
the  magistrates  of  the  people  should  be  ciiosen  in  the  comitia 
called  by  tribes,  which  were  exempt  from  all  tliosc  restraints. 

The  "senate,  by  ihrowing  difhculties  in  the  way,  found  means  ir 
retard  for  some  lime  the  passing  of  a  law  so  fatal  to  their  power 
but  their  o|)posilion  was  in  the  main  inelTectual  ;  for  it  passed  at 
last,  ainj  with  this  remarkable  addition,  that  all  c,'.irsiions,  in  wliirb 
the  aHiiirs  oi  the  people  were  agitated,  shoidd  bcncelo.-ward  be 
debated  ii.  the  con  ilia  tribv('x. 


32r>  UNIVKUSAL  HISTORY.  [nOOK   111 

This  famous  law  of  Volero  completed  the  change  in  the  con- 
stitnlion  of  the  Roman  Reptiblic.  The  supreme  authority  from 
this  time;  may  be  considered  as  haviii<i  passed  from  the  higher 
orders  into  llie  hands  of  the  pe()|)le.  The  consuls  conti:  u  d  'o 
preside  in  the  comitia  held  by  centuries;  but  the  tribunes  presided 
in  liiose  assembhes  in  uhicli  the  most  important  business  of  the 
commonwealih  was  now  transacted.  Tlie  senate  relai.icd.  how- 
ever, a  considerable  degree  of  power.  They  had  tiie  disposal  of 
the  public  money*;  they  sent  and  received  ambassadors, — made 
treaties — and  their  decrees  had  the  force  of  a  law  while  not  annul- 
led by  a  decree  of  the  people.  In  a  word,  this  body  continued  to 
have  respect,  and  at  least  the  appearance  of  authority,  which  we 
shall  observe  to  have  yet  its  etlect  in  frequently  restraining  the 
violence  of  the  popular  measures.  The  consuls  too,  though  in 
most  points  of  effective  power  and  authority  subordinate  to  the 
tribunes,  had  yet  in  some  particulars  a  vestige  of  supremacy. 
They  were  absolute  at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  first  in  command 
in  the  civil  authority  within  the  city.  Their  office  still  carried 
with  it  that  external  show  of  dignity  which  commands  respect 
and  submission,  and  which,  over  the  minds  of  the  vulgar,  is  fre- 
quently attended  with  the  same  influence  as  substantial  power. 


CHAPTER   V. 


An  Agrarian  Ijaw  never  seriously  projected  —  Decemviri  proposed  to  dijrest  a 
Code  of  Laws — Ciiicinnatus  —  Appointment  of  Deceinvirs — Laws  of  tlie 
Twelve  Tables  —  Tyranny  of  the  Decemvirs — Infamous  conduct  of  Appiua 
Claudius — Death  of  Virginia — Abolition  of  the  Decemvirate. 

The  People  having  now  attained  so  very  considerable  an  increase 
of  authority,  might  certainly  have  prevailed  in  obtaining  the  favorite 
measure  of  an  agrarian  law.  But  the  truth  is,  this  measure  was 
nothing  more  than  a  political  engine,  occasionally  employed  by 
the  popular  magistrates  for  exciting  commotions,  and  weakening 
the  power  of  the  patricians.  It  was  a  measure  attended  necessa- 
rily with  so  much  difliculty  in  the  execution,  that  few  even  of  the 
people  themselves  had  a  sincere  desire  of  seeing  it  accomplished. 
The  extensive  disorder  it  must  have  introduced  in  the  territorial 
possessions  of  the  citizens,  by  a  new  distribution  of  all  the  lands 
acquired  by  conquest  to  the  republic  since  the  time  of  Romulus — 


CH.   v.]  DECEM\IRI     PROPOSEP.  327 

the  affection  which  even  the  poorest  feel  for  a  sniall  patrimonial 
inheritance,  the  place  of  their  nativity,  and  the  repository  of  tira 
bones  of  their  forefathers — and  that  most  admirable  and  mo^t  salu- 
tary persuasion  that  it  is  an  act  of  impictv  to  alter  or  remove  ancient 
landmarks — *  all  these  were  such  strong  obstacles  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  that  design,  that  it  could  never  be  seriously  expected 
that  the  measure  would  meet  with  that  effectual  supjtort  which 
was  necessary  to  carry  it  into  execution. 

The  tribunes,  well  aware  of  those  difficulties,  and  fearina  (hat 
from  too  frequent  repetition  the  proposal  would  become  at  length 
so  stale  as  to  produce  no  useful  eff(?ct,  bethought  themselves  of  a 
new  topic  to  keep  alive  the  spirits  of  the  people,  and  to  foment 
those  dissensio  is  which  increased  their  own  power  and  diminished 
that  of  the  patricians. 

The  Romans  had  at  this  time  no  body  of  civil  laws.  Those 
few  which  they  had,  were  only  known  to  the  senate  and  patricians, 
who  interpreted  them  according  to  their  pleasure,  and  as  best 
.suited  their  purposes.  Under  the  regal  government,  the  kings 
alone  adniinistered  justice  :  the  consuls  succeeded  to  this  part  of 
the  royal  prerogative,  so  that  thoy  had,  in  fact,  the  disposal  of  the 
fortunes  of  all  the  citizens.  Terentius,  or  Terentiiius,  one  of  the 
tribunes,  in  an  assembly  of  the  people,  after  a  violent  declatuation 
on  public  grievances  of  all  kinds,  and  particularly  on  that  dreadful 
circumstance  of  the  lot  of  the  plebeians,  that  in  all  contests  with 
patricians  they  were  sure  to  suffer,  as  the  latter  were  both  judges 
and  parties,  proposed  that,  in  order  to  remedy  this  great  evil,  ten 
commissioners,  or  decemviri^  should  be  ap|)oinfed  to  frame  and  di- 
gest a  new  body  of  laws,  for  defining  and  securing  the  rights  of  all 
the  different  orders, — a  system  of  jurisprudence  binding  alike  on 
consuls,  senators,  patricians,  and  ])lcbeians. 

This  proposition,  having  essential  justice  and  good  policy  for  its 
foundation,  was  received  by  the  peojjle  with  loud  applause.  It 
had  been  prudent  in  the  hi-ber  orders  to  have  given  it  no  opposi- 
tion, as  in  reality  no  solid  objection  could  be  made  to  it.  But 
there  was  always  a  party  in  the  senate  who  made  it  a  settled  prin- 
ciple to  oppose  every  thing  which  was  either  beneficial  or  grateful 
to  the  people  ;  as  in  most  factions,  the  conduct  of  the  different 
partisans  is  influenced  less  by  considerations  either  of  political  ex- 
pediency or  moral  rectitude,  than  by  an  tniiform  purpose  of  aliasing 
and  mortifying  their  antagonists. 

The  proposal,  therefore,  met  with  opposition  ;  and  the  conse- 


•  The  iniTcninus  fihle  rolatrd  liy  Ovid,  Fast.  lib.  ii.  v.  0*77,  in  a  proor  of  thif 
prevalent  bolief  Th«>  purport  i>*,  that  when  ihr-  mpitnl  wna  founded  in  hnnor 
of  Jupiter,  nil  th«  other  {jods  r(ins4nlin(i  to  r>-tire  «nd  abandon  Iheir  nj^ht  lo 
the  place,  the  L'od  /Vrm/mw  alone  n  I'lit-d  and  kept  his  |xi»l.  The  momi  drawn 
IS,  that  what  Jupiter  himself  could  not  remove,  ■hould  yield  to  no  human  will 
or  power. 


328  UNIVERSAL  mSTOKV.  [bOOK   III 

(jueiice  was,  lliat  llic  j)coplo,  regardless  of  the  previous  fonnality 
of  a  tlocree  of  the  senate,  passed  the  law  of  Tcrerilius  in  an  assem- 
bly of  ihe  tribes.  The  senators  protested  against  this  as  a  most 
presumptuous  and  unconstitutional  innovation.  The  law  of  Volero, 
t  is  true,  which  allowed  all  (juestions  regarding  the  popular  interest 
to  be  deliberated  on  in  the  comilia  Iribula,  seemed  in  effect  to 
confer  on  the  assembly  of  the  people  so  held,  the  right  of  legis- 
lation ;  but  the  exercise  of  such  a  right,  immediately  and  originally 
in  the  people,  had  been  hitherto  without  example.  The  patri- 
cians, too,  might  have  urged  with  justice,  that  if  they  were  not 
allowed  to  have  the  right  of  making  laws  to  bind  the  plebeians 
without  their  consent,  neither  could  the  plebeians  possess  a  similar 
right  to  bind  the  patricians.  Influenced  by  such  considerations, 
some  young  men  of  the  patrician  order,  headed  by  Ceso  Quiniius, 
the  son  of  L.  Quiniius  Cincinnatus,  burst  in  arms  into  the  midst 
of  the  comitia,  and  beating  down  all  before  them,  dispersed  the 
assembly.  For  this  offence  Caeso  was  banished  by  a  decree  of  the 
people. 

These  intestine  disorders,  which  persuaded  the  enemies  of  Rome 
of  her  general  weakness,  induced  the  Sabines  to  form  a  design  of 
surprising  and  taking  possession  of  the  city.  A  body  of  4000 
men  entered  Rome  during  the  night,  seized  upon  the  capitol,  and 
invited  all  such  citizens  as  were  oppressed  by  the  tyranny  of  theit 
superiors  to  join  them  and  vindicate  their  freedom.  A  great  pro- 
portion of  the  people  actually  deliberated  on  this  proposal:  so  true 
it  is  that  the  factions  of  a  stale  never  fail  to  extinguish  the  patriotic 
spirit  ;  thus  developing  the  true  spring  of  most  popular  convul 
sions,  a  selfish  thirst  of  plunder  to  be  gratified  in  the  overthrow  of 
all  legal  authority.  The  senate  ordered  the  people  to  arms  ;  and 
the  tribunes  countermanded  that  order,  declaring  that,  unless  the 
consuls  should  immediately  agree  to  the  nomination  of  commis- 
sioners for  the  laws,  they  were  determined  to  submit  without 
resistance  to  the  dominion  of  the  Sabines.  Publius  Valerius,  one 
of  the  consuls,  pledged  himself  to  the  people  for  the  performance 
of  this  condition;  and  the  people,  now  taking  arms,  attacked  and 
cut  to  pieces  the  Sabine  army.  But  Valerius  unfortunately  fell  in 
the  engagement,  and  his  colleague,  having  come  under  no  obliga- 
tion, refused  to  comply  with  the  popular  desire.  A  successor  was 
chosen  to  Valerius  in  the  consulate,  L.  Quintius  Cincinnatus,  a 
man  of  great  resolution  and  intrepidity,  who,  though  himself  so 
indigent  as  to  cultivate  widi  his  own  hands  his  paternal  fields,  and 
to  be  called  from  the  plough  to  put  on  the  robe  of  the  consul,  had 
yet  the  high  spirit  of  an  ancient  patrician,  which  was  ill  disposed 
to  brook  the  insolence  of  the  popular  magistrates,  or  acquiesce  in 
the  daily  increasing  pretensions  of  the  inf(?rior  order. 

Cincinnatus  took  a  new  method  to  bring  the  people  to  submis- 
sion. He  declared  to  the  soldiers — who  were  yet  bound  by  their 
sacramen'um,  or  oath  of  enro  ment — that  he  intended  to  carry  on 


Cn.     V.J  CINCI.V.NATLS.  JJJ«» 

ihe  war  against  the  iEf|i  i  and  Volsci,  and  iliat,  for  t.iat  purpose, 
they  sl)OLikl  winter  unde;  their  tenis  ;  that  he  was  deieriniiied  not 
to  return  to  Rome  ii\  the  expiration  of  his  consulate,  at  w|ji(  li  lime 
he  would  nominate  a  dictator,  to  secure  the  continuance  of  good 
order  and  tranquillity. 

The  people,  who,  in  all  their  military  expeditions,  had  nevei 
been  above  a  few  weeks  at  a  time  under  arms,  were  ihundrrsiruck 
when  they  neard  of  a  winter  campaign.  The  relimpiishment  of 
their  nimilies,  and  the  neglect  of  their  lands,  which  must  necessa- 
rily be  followed  by  a  famine,  were  considerations  most  seriously 
alarming.  They  now  inveighed  bitterly  against  their  tribunes  who 
had  brought  matters  to  this  extremity,  and  even  made  a  proposal 
to  the  senate,  agreeing  to  drop  the  Terentian  law  altogether,  pro- 
vided that  body  should  |)revail  on  the  consul  lo  dejiart  from  his  pur- 
pose. On  that  condition,  Cincinuatiis  consented  to  postpone  the 
war,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  during  his  consulate  every  thing 
was  tranquil,  and  the  ecpiity  of  his  administration  made  the  want  of 
laws  be  for  a  time  entirely  forgotten. 

Two  years  afterwards,  the  republic  owed  her  preservation  to  the 
same  Cincinnatus.  The  yEqui  had  surrounded  a  consular  army, 
and  reduced  it  to  extremity.  Cincinnatus  was  chosen  dictator  :  he 
defeated  the  enemy,  and  compelling  them  to  lay  down  their  arms, 
made  their  whole  army  pass  naked  under  the  yoke.  In  reward  of 
this  signal  service  he  was  honored  with  a  triumph  ;  his  son  Ca^so 
was  recalled  from  banishment,  and  ho  abdicated  his  dictatorship 
within  seventeen  days. 

But  this  opposition  to  the  strong  will  of  the  people  proiiuced 
only  a  temporary  obstruction  to  the  force  of  a  stream  whose  current 
was  irresistible.  It  was  the  care  of  the  tribunes  perpetually  to 
})resent  to  the  minds  of  the  populace  some  new  object  to  be 
attained  ;  and  they  now  proposed  that  such  part  of  the  ^Irenlint 
.J\ fount  as  remained  unoccu|)icd  by  imlividnal  proprietors  should  be 
distributed  among  the  poorer  citizens.  The  consuls  havinij  delayed 
to  propose  this  matter  in  the  senate,  Icilius,  one  of  the  tribunes, 
sent  his  apparitor  to  summon  the  consuls  to  convoke  that  as>;embly 
for  the  purpose  in  view.  The  consids  might  have  contemned  this 
presum|)tuous  summon^,  and  so  n)ade  the  tribune  sink  nuiler  the 
consequence  of  an  abortive  stretch  of  authority,  which  had  no  sup- 
port in  es:al)lislied  rigid  or  usage  ;  but  they  were  imprudent  enounh 
to  cause  tlieir  lienors  to  strike  the  a|)|)aritor  with  his  fasces.  This 
was  a  violation  of  the  sacred  character  and  ollice  of  the  tribune-.!. 
The  lictor  was  arrested — the;  senate  met  to  allay  the  distiubance. 
It  was  a  small  matter  that  the  peo|)le  obtained  their  recpie-,!  of  ilio 
Aveniine  Mount;  but  the  serious  and  deepfelt  ronsecpience  of  (his 
afl'air  was,  that  from  that  moment  the  tribunes — they  who  were 
wont  to  sli  at  the  door  of  the  senate-house  till  called  in  by  the 
consuls — now  claimed  and  ac(|iiired  a  right  of  convoking  lliiit  assem- 
bl)  at  their  pleasure. 

vol,.  I.  42 


330  UNIVERSAL    HISTOKY.  [bOOK   III 

Tlie  tribunes  had  tliis  advantnj^o  over  all  llic  othoi  magistrates, 
that  tlicy  could  be  continued  in  office  as  long  as  the  people  chose. 
Icilius  had  now  been  tribune  for  six  successive  years;  when,  em- 
boldened by  repealed  experiments  of  his  power,  he  attempted  to 
subject  the  consuls  to  the  irihuiial  of  the  people.  A  tumult  having 
arisen  on  account  of  the  levies,  Icilius  ordered  the  consuls  to  be 
carried  to  prison,  for  having  seized  some  of  the  plebeians  whom 
he  wished  to  protect  from  enrolment.  The  patricians  flew  among 
the  crowd,  and  drove  back  the  tribunes  and  their  attendants. 
Icilius  hereupon  accused  the  consuls  of  having  committed  sacrilege 
against  the  tribunes,  and  insisted  that  the  senate  should  oblige 
them  to  appear  before  the  people  in  the  Com.tia,  and  submit  to 
whatever  penally  the  latter  should  deiMii  ))roper  to  inflict.  This 
bold  enterprise  might  have  succeeded,  had  it  been  possible  to  keep 
alive  the  same  ardor  with  which  the  people  seemed  at  first  to  be 
animated  ;  but  reflection  having  time  to  oj^erate,  the  people  stiL 
felt  a  degree  of  reverence  for  the  first  magistrates  of  the  stale, 
which  made  ihem  look  upon  this  as  a  species  of  rebellion.  Icilius 
very  soon  perceived  this  change  in  their  disposition,  and  was  pru- 
dent enough  to  make  a  merit  of  sacrificing  his  resentment  to  the 
public  tranquillity.  To  support  his  power,  which  might  have 
suffered  from  the  defeat  of  this  bold  attempt,  he  resumed  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Terentian  law,  and  insisted  for  an  immediate  nomination 
of  decemvn-s.  After  some  fruitless  essays  of  opposition  by  the 
patricians,  which,  as  usual,  ended  to  their  disadvantage,  the  senate 
was  at  length  forced  to  acquiesce  in  the  measure.  Deputies  are 
said  to  have  been  sent  into  Greece  to  obtain  accurate  information 
as  to  the  constitutions  of  the  several  republics,  and  particularly  to 
form  a  collection  of  the  laws  of  Solon.  These,  it  is  said,  returned 
after  a  year's  absence ;  and  it  was  then  agreed  to  create  decemviri, 
to  frame  and  digest  such  ordinances  as  they  should  judge  most 
proper  for  the  Roman  cotnmonweallh.*  It  was  thought  neces- 
sary that  these  magistrates  should,  for  one  year,  be  invested  with 
sovereign  power  ;  during  which  time,  all  otlier  magistracies,  even 
the  tribunate,  which  used  to  subsist  during  the  dictatorship,  should 
cease  ;  and  that  they  alone  should  have  the  power  of  making  peace 
ami  war.  They  were  to  be  restrained  only  in  one  article — that 
they  should  not  abolish  the  sacred  laws;  that  is,  those  which  had 
been  made  in  favor  of  the  plebeians. 

Menenius,  the  consul,  in  order  to  create  some  obstacle  to  the 
conclusion  of  this  important  measure,  proposed  that  the  decemvirs 
should  be  named  by  the  consuls  of  the  succeeding  year,  and  this 


•The  tesliinonips  for  this  einbnssy  into  Grpere  are  Livy  and  Dionysiiis  of 
Halicarnrissus ;  bill  the  silence  of  all  ihe  Greeit  writers  with  reirtird  to  this 
remarkable  deputation  creates  a  suspicion  of  the  fact  being  void  of  fiundation; 
nor  is  there  any  such  respinblance  betweeeii  the  laws  of  bolon  and  those  of  the 
Xll  Tables  as  to  countcifnce  this  popular  story. 


tU.    v.]  DECEMVIRI     CUOSF.N  HOI 

beiiT^  agieed  to,  tlie  patricians  took  care  that  ilio  coii-iiils  sliould 
be  sucli  as  were  believed  to  have  no  favorable  ilispositioii  towards 
the  popular  cause.  Appius  Claudius  and  Titus  Gonucius,  were 
elected  consuls.  But  A|)piiis  disappointed  the  ex|)eciations  of  his 
party;  for,  instead  of  op|)osing  the  creation  of  decemvirs,  he  soli 
cited  that  office.  He  offered,  for  himself  and  his  colj.'ague,  to 
renounce  the  consulship,  and  proposed,  in  order  to  remove  all 
grievances,  that  the  same  laws  should  he  enacted  for  |)atri(-ians 
and  plebeians.  The  people  now  applauded  Appius  to  the  skies. 
The  comitia  were  called  by  centuries,  a  circumstance  which  con- 
fined the  office  to  the  order  of  the  patricians.  Appius  CFaiidius 
and  his  colleague  were  first  nominated,  and  the  remaining  eight 
were,  like  them,  senators  and  consular  persons.  The  people  ex- 
pected a  great  deal  from  the  professions  of  Appius;  and  the 
senate  was  pleased  in  thinking  that  his  ambition  would  find  a  strong 
restraint  from  the  opposition  of  his  colleagues. 

Tims,  the.  earnest  desire  of  the  peo|)le  was,  at  length,  cra'.ified 
by  the  creation  of  the  decemviri.  But  ever  impatient  of  their 
present  situation,  and  prone  to  imagine  advantages  in  every  change, 
the  populace  seldom  looks  forward  to  the  natural  consecjuences  of 
the  innovations  which  they  long  for.  We  shall  see  how  soon  they 
began  to  reap  the  bitter  fruits  of  obtaining  their  desire.  It  is 
somewhat  difficult  to  account  for  the  active  part  taken  by  the  tri- 
bunes in  the  creation  of  this  new  magistracy;  a  dignity  and  power 
which  was  to  supersede  and  extinguish  their  own.  It  is  not  im- 
probable, that  the  part  which  they  took  in  this  matter  proceeiled 
from  no  other  motive  than  the  general  policy  of  fomenting  ani- 
mosities between  the  orders,  which  they  found  nmst  frequently 
gave  occasion  to  an  extension  of  their  own  power  and  infiucnce; 
that  they  never  seriously  expected  to  obtiin  their  demand;  and 
were,  indeed,  mortified  at  their  own  success.  But  what  is  most 
surprising  is  the  cordial  concurrence  latterly  shown,  by  both  the 
orders,  in  vesting  those  new  magistrates  with  such  pleniiude  of 
power,  as  fiirnished  them  with  the  means  they  actually  made  »ise 
of,  to  annihilate  all  authority  but  their  own,  and  render  their  ofllce 
perpetual. 

The  (Ucemvirs,  in  the  first  year  of  their  magistracy,  labored 
with  much  assiduity  in  the  compilation  of  the  laws.  And  when 
their  work  was  completed,  they  divided  these,  at  first  into  ten,  and 
afterwards  into  hcelre  tahl.'s.  'Of  these  Laws  of  the  Twehe  Ta- 
bles, of  which  the  name  is  illustrious,  it  is  necessary  lo  give  some 
account,  and  of  the  sources  from  which  it  is  probable  they  were 
compiled. 

■  During  the  time  of  the  regal  government  at  Rome,  we  know 
very  little  of  what  was  the  state  of  the  laws.  In  all  piobnhiliiy, 
these  were  nothing  else  than  a  few  regulations,  called  forth  by 
the  exigence  of  circumstances,  and  suggested  by  the  particulw 
cases  which  nmc  before  the  judicial  tribunals.     A  large  mass  of 


032  UNIVERSAL    IlISTORV.  [liOOK    III 

rules  ;nlglit  thus  bo  nccutmilated;  hut  these,  being  framed  on  n« 
{general  principles,  would  often,  in  their  ap|)licatiou  to  new  cases, 
be  found  to  err  against  material  justice.  No  application  of  reason 
or  philosophy  had  ever  been  made  to  the  discovery  of  legal  prin- 
cipli's;  for  every  rule  was  only  the  decision  of  an  individual  judge, 
according  to  what  appeared  just  and  erpiltable  in  the  case  before 
liini.  It  has  been  a  question  agitated  between  the  partisans  of 
the  popular  cause  and  the  advocates  for  the  extension  of  the  pcM-ers 
of  monarchy,  whether  the  kings  of  Rome  were  absolute,  both  in 
their  legislative  and  ministerial  capacity;  or  whether,  in  order  to 
ratify  such  laws  as  they  had  the  right  of  suggesting  and  pro))osing, 
it  was  necessary  to  obtain  the  consent  and  sanction  of  the  people. 
In  a  question,  to  which,  from  die  uncertainty  of  all  that  regards 
the  early  history  of  the  Romans,  it  is  not  possible  to  give  a  posi- 
tive answer,  and  where  the  opinions  of  historians  are  nothing  more 
than  their  own  conjectures,  we  may  be  allowed,  like  them,  to  rea- 
son according  to  what  appears  most  probable.  Since,  therefore, 
it  is  a  certain  fact,  that  the  regal  dignity  itself  was  elective,  and 
that  the  choice  lay  in  the  people,  it  seems  a  natural  presumption, 
that  the  people,  acquiring  and  retaining  so  important  a  right, 
would  not  have  abandoned  every  other  article  of  their  power  or 
consequence.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  owned,  that  the  right 
of  electing  the  kings  does  not  appear  to  have  been  a  conventional 
prerogative  of  the  i)eople;  but  to  have  been,  probably,  the  conse- 
quence of  the  first  king's  dying  a  violent  death,  without  leaving 
children, — a  circumstance  which  must  necessarily  have  occasioned 
an  election  to  the  vacant  office.  But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  certainly 
probable,  that  the  people  who  elected  the  official  lawgiver  would 
likewise  assume  or  reserve  to  themselves  some  restraining  or  con- 
trolling influence  in  the  laws  to  be  enacted.  The  kings,  we  there- 
fore suppose,  submitted  to  the  consideration  of  the  people,  in  the 
comitia,  those  laws  which  they  were  disirous  of  enacting,  and  took 
their  sense  by  the  majority  of  suffrages. 

These  laws,  after  the  expulsion  of  the  Tarquins,  were  collected 
into  one  body  by  Papirius,  or  Papisius,  a  patrician  ;  and  from 
hiir.  took  the  name  of  Jus  Civile  Papirianum,  or  Popisianum. 
But  in  the  beginning  of  the  commonwealth,  such  was  considered 
to  be  the  imperfection  of  this  code  and  its  want  of  auihoriiy,  that 
it  fell  entirely  into  neglect,  and  all  judicial  proceedings  were  regu- 
lated either  by  custom  or  the  opinions  of  individual  magistrates. 
In  this  situation  the  want  of  a  regular  system  of  jurisprudence, 
which  should  be  a  standard  of  procedure  to  all  the  judges,  and  a 
known  and  fixed  rule  of  conduct  for  the  people,  began  to  be  uni- 
versally felt.  Commissioners,  as  we  have  seen,  were  at  length 
appointed  to  frame  and  digest  such  a  code. 

The  Decemviri  engrossed  in  their  collection  several  of  the 
ancient  laws  of  the  kings.  They  retained  likewise  all  the  more 
recen   laws  which  had  been  passed  in  favor  of  the  people,  as  thaf 


wH.  V.J  LAWS    OF    THE  TWELVE  TAKI.ES.  333 

was  a  condition  sti])ulatcd  at  the  time  of  their  appointment  to  oflice. 
and  on  the  report  of  the  depnties  said  to  have  been  sent  into  Greece 
for  collecting  the  laws  of  the  diderent  rc|)nhlics,  they  horrowcd 
from  ihein  snch  as  they  judged  most  snital»le  to  the  Koman  con- 
stitution. These  laws,  after  being  exjjosed  for  a  ceriain  time  in 
the  fornm,  and  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  the  people,  who  it 
does  not  appear  made  any  alteration  in  them,  were  engraven  on 
ten  tables  of  brass,  to  which  two  others  were  added  a  short  lime 
afterwards.  These  Twelve  Tables  became  the  basis  of  the  Roman 
jurisprudence.  Livy  remarks,  that  in  his  time,  amidst  the  infinite 
number  of  additional  laws,  the^e  continued  to  possess  the  greatest 
authority.  And  Cicero,  speaking  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  gives 
them  the  highest  encomium,  affirming  that  they  throw  great  light 
on  the  manners  and  customs  of  ancient  times,  and  contain  more 
wisdom  than  the  libraries  of  all  the  philosophers.*  It  was,  he 
tells  us,  a  coinmon  practice  for  the  youth  to  commit  these  laws  to 
memory. 

The  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables  were  classed  in  the  following 
order.  The  first  table  enacted  the  form  of  judicial  |)roceedinjs 
before  the  several  tribunals.  In  the  second  were  classed  tiie  laws 
regarding  theft,  breach  of  trust,  and  robbery.  The  third  treated 
of  debtors  and  creditors;  the  fourth  of  the  patria  poteslas,  or 
powers  which  a  father  had  over  his  children;  ihe  ftfth  of  inherit- 
ances and  guardianships;  the  sixth  contained  the  laws  regarding 
property  and  possession;  the  seventh  related  to  the  punishment 
of  different  crimes  and  delicts;  the  eighth  contained  regulations 
regarding  land  estates,  public  roads,  boundaries,  and  plantations; 
the  ninth  related  to  the  privileges  of  the  people,  or  the  rights  of 
Roman  citizens;  the  tenth  contained  the  regulation  of  fun-rals; 
the  eleventh  treated  of  religion  and  the  worship  of  the  gods;  and 
the  tivclfth  enacted  regulations  regarding  marriage,  and  the  rights 
of  husbands  and  wives.! 

This  digest  of  jurisprudence  gave,  on  the  whole,  great  satisfac- 
tion to  all  ranks  of  men;  but  among  the  statutes  of  the  last  table 
was  one  law  most  imjjolitic  in  the  present  situation  of  allairs,  anc' 


*  Phirirna,  inquil  Crnssiis,  est  in  XII  Tabulis  antiqiiitatis  cffiiriM ;  qnod  et 
verboniiii  prisca  votiislas  r.ocrnoscilur,  ct  nctionum  ^>nera  quicdain  niojomin 
consuotiulinoin  vitaiiiquc  doclarant :  Sive  qnis  civilein  sciontiam  conlciiiplrliir, 
quain  Scccvola  non  putil  oraUiris  osso  propriatn,  sod  nijusdain  vx  ali»  cimxto 
priidcnliaj,  tnlam  banc  di'scriptis  oiniiitius  civilalis  utilitaliliiis,  nc  partibun,  XII 
Tabulis  cnntinori  vidol)iii8:  sive  qin-m  ista  pnrpotcus  vi  plorio.»a  philo-iopliia 
dcloclal  (di(^-lm  audaciiis.)  hoscc  lialji-t  fontfs  omniuin  disputaliomim  suarum, 
aiii  jure  civili  L'l  lijjibiis  continoiitiir  — Fromant  licrt  oiiinrs,  diram  qwr>d  w-nlio: 
i^ibliolhi'cas,  tnehcrculc.  omniiiin  pbilosopboniin  iiniis  iiiibi  vidolur  ,\H  Tabu- 
larum  libellua.  si  quis  h?iTuni  fnntcs,  I'l  capita  vidi-rit,  el  aucl.irilatis  poiidcn*, 
et  utililatis  ubcrtale  supt'rarc. — Cicrro  df  Onitorc,  lib.  i. 

t  A  brief  analysis  of  tlio  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  and  a  vorv  pempiruooi 
coinmeiita''y  on  llieir  iuif  -rt,  is  to  Ik*  found  in  Hosini,  .\nUq.  Rem  ,  Dciniwteri 
lib.  viii. 


3r}l  iNivKiisAi.  iiisroKY.  [nooK   iii 

U'liicli  produced  accoidiii;;!)'  ull  tliut  niiicor  iind  iinii.io.sily  betucun 
(lie  onlfis,  \vlii(  li  iiii;^lit  Ikivo  been  expected.  Tliis  was  a  law 
j)r()liil)itiii^  :ill  imciiiuiniaf^e  Ijetueeii  the  paliicians  and  plebeians 
— a  law  wiiitli  tlie  inferior  order  conid  not  lulp  regarding  as  a 
mark  of  infamy  and  scorn.  It  was  nalnrally  felt  as  such,  and  tlie 
popular  magistrates  were  not  remiss  in  cherishing  and  exaggeiatirig 
(hat  impression  on  the  minds  of  llic  people.  It  gave  rise  to  a  keen 
and  animated  debate  in  the  Cotnilia,  which  Livy  has  niinntely 
detailed  in  the  f*jurlh  book  of  his  history.  The  s|)ecch  of  tlio 
tribune  Cannleius,  on  that  occasion,  though  doubtless  owing  its 
priiu  ipal  merit  to  (he  (alents  of  the  historian,  is  a  noble  s|)ecimen 
ol  elotpience,  and  of  that  judicious  intermixture  of  arguiiuMit  and 
irony  which  is  peculiarly  suited  to  a  popular  assembly.  The  law 
itself,  though  carried  at  the  time,  and  engrossed  among  those  of 
the  Twelve  Tables,  was  not  of  long  duration.  It  was,  in  fact, 
the  \ery  first  which  the  people,  in  their  daily  advancing  j)rogrcss 
to  an  e(pialiiy  of  rights  with  the  higher  order,  prevailed  to  lia\e 
abrogated. 

Thus  we  observe  the  Roman  jurisprudence  confined  at  first 
uiihiii  very  narrow  bounds;  a  circumstance  which  necessarily 
ga\e  great  latitude  to  judges  in  the  power  of  interi)reiing  the 
statutes;  and  the  inapplicability  of  these  to  the  endless  variety  of 
cases  must,  of  course,  have  greatly  fomented  the  spirit  of  litigation. 
One  admirable  law,  however,  to  be  found  in  those  tables,  was  the 
best  antidote  that  could  be  devised  for  this  en(irmous  evil.  This 
was  an  enactment,  that  all  causes  should  be  heard  and  determined 
in  one  day,  between  sunrise  and  sunset.  This  was  a  powerful 
restraint  on  every  species  of  judicial  chicanery,  and  operated  as 
the  best  remedy  against  that  delay,  the  worst  of  grievances,  which 
often  makes  injustice  itself  more  tolerable  than  the  means  of  ob- 
taining its  redress. 

From  the  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  the  Juri^consulli  com- 
posed a  system  of  forms  and  rules,  by  which  the  processes  in  the 
courts  were  conducted.  The  number  of  the  laws  was  likewise 
increased,  from  time  to  time,  by  the  Plebiscita  and  Senulus  con 
fulta;  the  former  made  by  tlie  people,  without  the  authority  of 
the  senate,  in  the  Cumitia  Ir'ibula;  the  latter  enacted  by  the  sole 
authority  of  the  senate.  To  these  we  may  add  the  laws  framed 
by  the  authority  of  the  proctors^  after  the  institution  of  that  magis- 
tracy, which  \Vas  near  a  century  posterior  to  the  creation  of  the 
decemvirs.  But  of  those  difi'erent  materials  which  composed  the 
body  of  the  Roman  law,  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  treat  with 
greater  amplitude. 

The  decemviri,  like  most  men  new  in  office,  conducted  them- 
selves at  first  with  much  wisdom  and  moderation:  each  of  llicin 
by  turns  presided  as  chief  magistrate  of  the  state,  during  a  single 
day,  having  the  fasces  carried  before  him  in  token  of  sovereign 
power.     The  nine  others  had  no  other  distinguishing  symbol  than 


CM.  V,]  At'rii*  cLiUou's.  333 

runl  imo  e\iK\.nou  iho  jv-^uh  o(  UuMr  jvnnt  iliMormiuaii.m  in  tlte 
imlinary  lMi>ini».-j5  of  iho  louunonwoalih.  Uii  tl»o  uln»li»  tltvomvin 
nmilioii  with  iH^ual  »lili|;»MK'o  u»  ilu«  ailinini>ira«itvjj  of  justice. 
'I  lun  mcl  ovrry  nuu-muj;  in  llu>  loiuin,  to  >;ivi»  aiidionco  iv>  all 
oouu»lalius  aiui  pmoossos.  TIh\v  sivuuhI  to  bo  nniuuttcti  solrU 
bv  Uw  do^iiv  of  luuiuuuiuui*  publio  onlor ;  nor  was  tlK'rt>  any 
sY«uptCMus  of  jt^tKnisy  or  jwriy  spirit.  Kvon  Appius  riamlini, 
wboin  bis  colKvusncs  stHMu  lo  Iwa  o  ivprxlod  as  ibo  first  in  rank, 
airoctoil  no  supoiioriiY.  His  romlmi  aoquind  bini  hijib  popularity; 
tttul  wbilo  bo  rtMtdvMVil  iutpartial  justioo  to  tbvvio  of  ovcry  iai»k  aiui 
station,  Ito  l»ob.»vod  with  j;onilono>s  ami  omirtosy  to  tlu>  uuanosi 
cili«t>j).      Wo    shall    prx\<ontly  mh'    tho    purpa^o  of  this  aiubiiicHM 

Tbo  tiMtn  of  administrativxn  of  tho  now  ttiai^istraios  IkuI  ahm^sl 
«»xpirtHl,  wlwn  it  was  riMinti  tunossarv  to  n»ako  a  siippltMucni  to 
\\w  Ijun's^  of  two  a»liiitio«»al  tables,  t^or  tlwt  ostonsiblo  pnr|H»$t\ 
bnt  lootv  pixUmUv  IKmu  tho  dosiiv  of  pivvontins;  tho  oUvtimi  of 
tribunes,  tho  sonait>  ilootvotl  that  tlhMV  >boulil  bo  a  i>ou  npiM^ttt- 
tuont  o(  ibvoinviri.      Tho    p«H>plo,   wlu^  woio    «H]uar\  t   to 

bo  toJiovod  IWm«   tho  rousular  j;o\oriunont»  as  tho  y.\  :um» 

tho  tiibtinato,  appi\>\od  of  tho  tnoasuiv.  Sox  oral  sonators  aspirt^l 
to  tb*>  »»ow  (Dilhooi  wbilo  tho  artful  Appins,  with  a  slunv  of  nivniosty, 
artwt«^i  to  tiiTline  it.  \U>  was,  thotvforo.  obo^on  to  prx^sitlo  at 
tho  okvliott  of  tho  now  liivottjviri,  ami  thus  ontitltni  to  |;ivo  tlw 
first  sntihtio.  To  tho  stirpriso  of  all,  ho  nanunl  biiusoll.  ami  stis;- 
|l;t>sto<l  six  otbor^i  of  tho  pjjtrioian  oi>lor.  ami  thivo  of  tho  pK  boian. 
Sttob  w^ts  tho  pt^pularity  ho  haul  aoipiiivil.  and  stub  tho  s^tiiNfaotion 
>f  tho  ptH>plo,  in  boinc;  adiuiiiod  tv>  a  shar»»  in  this  in»}H>rrant  and 
bvxuMalxlo  ortioo,  that  his  noittination  was  rrvoivotl  with  loud  ap- 
plausos,  aiui  imnuHliatoly  as^tvod  to;  howovor  disploasim;  wo  nwiy 
prt>!8umo  it  was  to  timso  of  tho  his,bor  onlor,  wlw  oithor  onvio«< 
\\w  |»owor,  iv  ponoirato\l  into  tlw  antbitiims  dosipts  of  this  »rt' 
fui  iiKtn 

Tho  ooUoas^tios  whom  Appins  bail  nanunl  for  bintsolf  worr  all 
tnon  dovotod  tv»  his  iniort''st.  anil,  thorxMoiv,  tbox  Kxllowt^l  an  uni- 
form sxstotn  i>f  ntoasurt^s.  l\o>olxod  to  rotain  tltoir  v^tlioo  iW  lifo, 
thov  dotonnimnl  no  nuuv  to  assondUo  oitlh'r  tin*  Sonaio  iv  tho 
Oomtliu,  bttt,  in  virtue  i\l"  tlH>  plenary  jnxwors  anne\od  to  tln'ir 
ort»e«>^  to  rut  otV  all  apjn^al — to  snp)Ktrt  jvxintly  tlK»  s««|v»r«te  mo** 
satrtvs  and  iliH-rtvs  ol'  eaolt — att^l  thus  to  perpetiwte  in  their  oxvn 
poisons  a  sovortMsjn,  absolute,  anti  iinevmtr\»llod  amlHxrity.  This 
uold  purpose,  or  at  bnivt  tho  nttsisun^s  adoptini  for  its  aivomplisb- 
iuent,it  seou>s  e\tr\Muoly  dilUoult  to  nvoiHNle  to  eoumutu  pnidomr. 
All  appr\^aobos  to  tyranny,  if  planned  by  wistKxnt,  arv  tt-adual  ; 
atui  it  is  notbiusi  less  tlmn  tuadno<s  in  a  iuaj;isirato  to  pi.vlanu  a 
purpose  of  'vraiuxi«tK|;  upon  bis  first   ent«  rius,  ujh^u  lUboe. 


336  UNIVERSAL   msTORT.  [nooK   III 

But,  whatever  we  may  juflge  of  the  designs  of  these  decemvirs, 
It  is  ccriuin  that  they  endeavored  to  maintain  their  authority  by 
extreme  violence,  and  as  certain  that  they  became  aln)ost  imme- 
diately the  objects  of  pubhc  indignaiion.  From  their  first  appear- 
ance in  the  forum,  they  were  preceded  by  twelve  lictors,  who 
constantly  carried  the  fasces  armed  with  axes.  Their  suite  was 
commonly  composed  of  a  number  of  the  most  licentious  patricians; 
profligates  loaded  with  debt  or  stained  with  crimes;  men  whose 
pleasure  lay  in  every  species  of  disorder,  aiid  who  contributed  a 
desperate  aid  to  those  ministers  whose  power  protected  them  in 
their  lawless  excesses. 

Sucii  was  the  miserable  situation  of  Rome  ynder  her  new  gov- 
ernors, that  many  of  the  principal  citizens  betook  themselves  for 
refuge  to  the  allied  states.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the  JEqu'i  and 
Volsci,  those  perpetual  enemies  of  the  Romans,  should  judge  this 
a  favorable  season  for  an  attack  upon  the  territory  of  the  republic. 
In  this  emergency,  the  decemviri  became  sensible  of  their  want  of 
that  substantial  power  which  is  founded  on  popularity;  they  were 
obliged  to  convoke  the  senate,  and  thus  acknowledge  the  necessity 
of  a  decree  of  that  body  before  a  single  citizen  would  enter  the 
rolls.  By  the  senate's  decree,  three  bodies  of  troops  were  raised; 
two  marched  against  the  enemy,  and  with  them  eight  of  the 
decemvirs.  Appius  and  one  of  his  colleagues  retained  the  other 
body  in  Rome,  for  the  defence  of  the  city  and  the  support  of  their 
own  authority,  which  an  outrage  of  the  most  flagrant  nature  was 
now  very  speedily  to  bring  to  its  termination. 

Appius,  sitting  in  judsment  in  his  tribunal,  had  cast  his  eyes 
upon  a  young  woman  of  uncommon  beauty,  who  dally  passed 
through  the  forum.  In  her  way  to  the  public  schools.  ^  irglnia,  a 
maiden  of  fifteen  years  of  age,  was  the  daughter  of  a  plebeian,  a 
centurion,  at  that  time  absent  with  the  army.  Appius  had  been 
informed  of  her  situation  :  she  was  betrothed  to  Icilius,  formerly 
one  of  the  tribunes,  then  serving  against  the  enemy;  and  their 
marriage  was  to  be  celebrated  as  soon  as  the  campaign  was  at  a» 
end  ;  an  obstacle  which  served  only  to  increase  the  passion  of  this 
flagitious  magistrate,  who  determined,  at  all  hazards,  to  secure 
her  as  his  prey.  After  many  fruitless  attempts  to  corrupt  the 
fidelity  of  those  domestics  to  whom  Vlrglnius  had  left  the  charge 
of  his  daughter,  (for  she  had  lost  her  mother,)  Appius  devised  a 
scheme  which  he  thought  could  not  fail  to  put  Virginia  entirely 
within  his  power.  He  employed  Marcus  Claudius,  one  of  his 
dependents,  a  infamous  and  shameless  man,  to  claim  the  young 
woman  as  his  own  property.  Marcus  pretended  that  sbe  was  the 
daughter  of  one  of  his  female  slaves,  who  had  sold  her  when  an 
Infant  to  the  wife  of  Vlrglnius,  who  had  no  children.  He  there- 
fore pretended  to  reclaim  what  was  his  own,  and  attempted  by 
force  to  carr}'  her  home  to  his  house.  The  people  interposed 
with  great  earnestness  to  protect  the  young  woman;    and  Marcus, 


en      V.J  APRIL'S    AND    VIUGIMA.  537 

declaring  that  he  meant  nothing  but  what  was  just  and  lawful, 
brought  his  claim  before  the  tribunal  of  the  decemvir.  Numitorius, 
the  uncle  of  Virginia,  represented  that  her  father,  the  guardian  and 
protector  of  his  child,  was  at  this  time  absent,  and  in  arms  for  the 
defence  of  his  country.  He  asked  a  delay  only  of  two  days,  in 
order  to  send  for  him  from  the  camp,  and  demanded,  in  the  mean 
time,  that,  as  her  nearest  relation,  the  damsel  should  be  committed 
to  his  care.  The  decemvir,  with  the  show  of  much  candor, 
allowed  that  there  was  great  equity  in  the  request  of  sending  for 
Virginius,  which  he  therefore  immediately  granted,  but  urged  at 
the  same  time  that  this  delay  ought  not  to  be  prejudicial  to  the 
right  of  a  master  who  claimed  his  slave.  He?  therefore  decreed 
that  Marcus  should  take  the  young  woman  to  his  house,  on  giving 
security  to  produce  her  upon  the  return  of  her  father.  The  fla- 
grant injustice,  of  this  decree  excited  a  cry  of  universal  indignation. 
Marcus,  advancing  to  lay  liold  of  Virginia,  was  repulsed  by  the 
people,  and  particularly  by  Icilius,  her  intended  husband,  who, 
being  apprized  of  the  affair,  had  flown  in  rage  and  distraction  to 
the  forum.  The  tumult  became  so  violent,  that  Appius,  alarmed 
for  his  own  safety,  thought  proper  to  suspend  the  execution  of  his 
decree,  and  to  allow  the  young  woman  to  remain  under  the  pro- 
tection of  her  friends  till  the  arrival  of  her  father.  He  despatched, 
in  the  meantime,  a  messenger  to  the  army,  desiring  that  his  col 
leagues  would  on  no  account  permit  Virginius  to  quit  the  cantp. 
But  this  unfortunate  man,  whom  his  friends  had  found  means  to 
inform  of  the  situation  of  his  child,  was  already  on  his  way.  He 
got  to  Rome  without  hindrance,  and,  to  the  confusion  of  the 
decemvir,  appeared  next  day  in  the  forum,  supporting  in  his  arm* 
his  daughter  drowned  in  tears.  An  immense  crowd  attended; 
and  all  awaited  the  issue  of  this  interesting  question,  their  breasts 
alternately  agitated  with  fear,  with  compassion,  and  indignation. 

Appius,  deterrflined  to  prosecute  his  purpose,  had  ordered  the 
troops  to  surround  the  forum.  He  now  called  on  Marcus  to  make 
his  demand,  and  to  produce  the  proofs  of  his  claim.  To  these 
Virginius  was  at  no  loss  to  give  the  most  satisfactory  answers,  which 
fully  exposed  the  villany  of  the  imposture.  Appius  was  not  to 
be  thus  foiled.  With  the  most  unparalleled  effrontery,  he  stoml 
forth  as  a  witness  as  well  as  a  judge  ;  declaring  that  it  was  consis- 
tent with  his  own  knowledge  that  the  plea  of  Marcus  was  true. 
He  therefore  gave  his  final  sentence,  that  the  slave  should  bo 
delivered  up  to  her  lawful  master,  and  ordered  his  officers  to 
enforce,  without  delay,  the  execution  of  his  decree.  The  soldiers 
were  removing  the  crowd,  and  Marcus,  together  with  the  lirtors, 
was  advancing  to  seize  Virginia,  who  clung  for  protection  around 
the  neck  of  her  father.  "  There  is,"  said  he,  "but  one  way,  my 
dear  child,  to  save  thy  honor  and  pre>erve  thy  liberty."  Then 
seizing  a  knife  from  the  stall  of  a  butcher — "Thus,"  said  he, 
striking  her  to  'he  heart,  "  thus,  I  send  thee  to  thy  forefathers,  nn- 
VOL.  I.  4J 


338  UMVERSAI,    MISIOKV.  [nOOK     III 

polluted  and  a  free  woman."  TIkmi  turning  to  llic  tribunal  of 
Aj)|)ius,  "  Thou  uionslcr!"  cried  he,  "  with  this  blood  I  devote 
thy  head  to  the  infernal  gods!"  Appius,  in  a  transport  of  rage, 
called  out  to  the  lietors  to  seize  Virginins;  but  he,  rushing  out 
from  the  forum,  and  making  way  for  himself  with  the  knife  which 
he  held  in  his  hand,  while  th(;  multitude  favored  his  escaj)e,  got 
safe  without  the  city,  and  arrived  in  a  few  liours  at  the  camp. 
Meantime  Numitorius  and  Icilius  exposed  the  bleeding  body  to 
the  sight  of  the  whole  people,  who,  inflamed  to  the  highest  pilch 
of  fury,  would  have  torn  Appius  to  pieces,  hafl  he  not  found  means 
to  escape  amidst  the  tumult,  and  to  conceal  himself  in  the  house 
of  one  of  his  friends. 

Valerius  and  Horatius,  two  of  the  senators,  men  of  consular 
dignity,  and  who  had  opposed  the  last  creation  of  decemviri,  now 
put  themselves  at  the  head  of  the  people.  They  promised  thorp 
the  redress  of  all  their  wrongs,  and  the  abolition  of  those  hatea 
magistrates  ;  but  urged  that  they  should  first  wait  the  resolution 
of  the  army,  which  could  not  fail  to  coincide  with  their  own. 

The  unfortunate  Virginius  had  no  sooner  acquainted  his  fellow- 
soldiers  of  what  had  happened,  than  there  was  a  general  insurrec- 
tion. Without  regard  to  the  orders  of  the  decemvirs  in  the  camp, 
the  whole  army,  headed  by  their  centurions,  marched  to  Rome, 
and,  retiring  to  the  Aventine  mount,  chose  ten  leaders,  with  the 
title  of  military  tribunes.  They  then  declared  their  determined 
purpose  of  abolishing  the  decemvirate,  and  reestablishing  the  con- 
sular government,  together  with  the  tribunes  of  the  people.  The 
senate  was  assembled.  The  decemvirs  thought  proper  voluntarily 
to  resign  their  office.  Valerius  and  Horatius  were  chosen  consuls; 
and  the  popular  magistrates,  the  tribunes,  were  elected  with  the 
same  powers  as  formerly,  which  reinstated  the  people  ai  once  in 
all  their  rights  and  privileges. 

Among  the  tribunes  first  chosen  were  Virginius,  Icilius,  rnd 
Numitorius.  It  may  be  believed  that  their  vengeance  against  the 
infamous  Appius  was  not  long  delayed.  Virginius  cited  him 
before  the  people,  at  whose  orders  he  was  seized  and  thrown  into 
prison,  where,  a  few  days  after,  he  was  found  dead.  It  was  sus- 
pected, says  Dionysius,  that  he  was  privately  strangled  by  order 
of  (he  tribunes;  but  other  authors,  with  more  ))robability,  affirm 
that  he  chose  to  escape  a  certain  and  ignominious  fate  by  a  volun- 
tary death.  His  colleague  Oppius,  the  chief  abettor  of  his  primes, 
had  the  same  catastrophe,  and  the  rest  underwent  a  voluntary 
banishment,  while  their  goods  were  forfeited  to  the  public  use. 
Such  is  the  history  of  the  decemvirate,  that  inauspicious  and  short- 
lived magistracy,  which  was  thus  violently  terminated  in  the  third 
year  after  its  institution.* 


•  An  amusing  comparison   may  De  made  of  tlie  talents  of  tlie  two  grea".   U 


aU.    VI."]       TATRICIANS    AND   PLEBEIANS. INTERMARRIAGE  MS 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Law  against  intprmarriatro  of  Patricians  and  Plrbcians  repealed— .MiliUrj  Tii 
bunes  created — Creation  of  Censors— Their  hitrh  powers  of  oftict — A  regular 
p;iy  assigned  to  the  .\riny  introduces  a  new  balance  into  the  Constitution— 
ConsL'fiuences  of— Siege  of  Veii — lltunaris  begin  U)  extend  their  conque«t»— 
Reflections  on  the  stale  of  the  Repubhc  at  tiiis  period— War  with  tiie  GauU 
— [ts  fabulous  aspect — .New  popular  Laws— Institution  of  the  olUce  of  Prielor, 
— of  tiuaistor — of/Edile — Licinianlaw  liuiiting  properly  in  land 

No  sooner  was  tranquillity  in  some  measure  reeslablislieti  in  the 
city  of  Rome,  than  the  consuls  Valerius  and  Horatius,  at  the 
head  of  a  large  army,  animated  with  the  spirit  of  patriotism  which 
the  late  events  had  strongly  stimulated,  marched  agninst  the 
enemy.  The  Volsci  and  iEqiii  sustained  a  complete  defeat  ;  but 
the  senate,  jealous,  as  is  said,  of  the  too  great  popularity  of  the 
successful  generals,  thought  j)roper  to  refuse  thom  the  honors  of 
a  triumph.  The  consuls,  indignant  at  this  insult,  applied  to  tiie 
people,  who  unanimously  decreed  them  this  reward  of  their  ser- 
vices. Thus  the  senate  most  imprudently  threw  away  its  privi- 
leges; and  every  day  gave  some  new  accession  of  weight  to  the 
scale  of  the  people. 

Two  powerful  barriers  which  at  this  time  subsisted  between  the 
patricians  and  plebeians,  were  the  law  which  prevented  the  inter- 
marriage of  these  orders,  and  another  ordinance  which  excluded 
the  plebeians  from  the  consulate  and  higher  o/lices  of  the  stale. 
It  was  only  necessary  to  remove  these  two  obstructions,  to  l)ring 
the  separate  ranks  to  a  perfect  equality  in  every  substantial  privi- 
lege of  Roman  citizens  ;  and  the  plebeians  were  determined  to 
.eave  no  means  untried  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  end. 

On  the  occasion  of  a  new  war,  the  ordinary  device  was  |iractised 
of  refusing  to  enter  the  rolls.      In  this   j)urpose  the  people  were 


torians  of  the  Roman  republic,  I/ivv  and  Dionysius  of  HalicarnnMnfi,  in  the 
accounts  they  have  given  of  th:it  rdeUrated  event,  the  dentil  of  Virifinia  by  the 
hand  of  h(>r  father,  and  its  important  coniwquenceti.  In  Livv,  we  have  a  con- 
cise, clear,  and  animated  narrative,  where  no  cirrumstnnre  ih  Kup<-rlluous,  no 
ooservation  strained  or  far-fetched,  nor  any  thing  omitted  which  conlribulrg  to 
the  effect  of  the  picture.  In  Dionvsius,  we  wade  throurrh  n  minute  tielail  of 
facts,  and  a  lalxirious  legal  discussion,  resembling  the  n'porl  of  a  law-proc*-!* 
in  which  every  argument  is  brought  forward,  and  every  ri'llection  antici[>atr<l, 
that  the  mind  can  form  upon  the  case.  It  is  easy  to  judge  which  m'-thod  of 
writini' is  best  adapted  to  historical  composition.  Vide  I.iv.  lib.  iii  c.  Ml— GD' 
and   Dion.  Hal.,  Ant.  Rom.,  liS.   xi. 


34()  UNI  versa:,   mistort. 


BOOK   II» 


obstinate ,  and  tlic  tribiinos  proposed,  as  ilio  only  expedient  to 
bring  tboni  to  ronipliancp,  that  the  law  against  intermarriage  should 
be  repealed  ;  a  n)easiire  which,  thoy  urged,  would  be  equally  ad- 
vantageous for  both  parties,  as  it  would  tend  to  an  union  of  their 
interests,  and  put  an  end  to  those  perpetual  jealousies  and  conten- 
tions which  were  so  ruinous  to  the  re[)ublic. 

There  were  three  different  modes  by  which  marriage  could  be 
contracted  among  the  Romans.  The  marriages  of  the  patricians 
were  celebrated  in  the  presence  of  ten  witnesses,  and  with  a 
variety  of  religious  ceremonies  peculiar  to  their  order.  The 
plebeians  married  after  two  different  forms  :  the  one  was  by  a 
species  of  sale,  emptio  venditio ;  and  the  other  by  the  simple 
cohabitation  of  the  parties  for  a  year,  which  by  law  constituted  a 
marriage.  Religion,  therefore,  made  a  barrier  between  the  patri- 
cians and  plebeians  in  this  article  ;  and  this  necessarily  constituted 
the  principal  objection  against  the  repeal  of  the  law.  The  senate, 
liowever,  saw  the  necessity  of  some  concessions  ;  and  they  judged 
that,  by  granting  this  request,  they  would  put  a  stop  to  any  further 
claims,  at  least  for  the  present.  But  they  were  mistaken.  The 
spirit  of  encroachment  is  never  allayed  by  concession.  This  law 
was  no  sooner  repealed  than  the  people,  with  the  same  obstinacy, 
refused  to  enrol  themselves  till  a  second  law  was  passed,  admitting 
them  to  the  capacity  of  holding  all  the  offices  of  the  republic. 

No  measure  could  be  more  galling  than  this  to  the  pride  of  the 
patricians  ;  but  the  necessity  was  extreme,  as  the  enemy  was  at 
the  gates  of  Rome.  The  senate  sought  a  palliative  to  content  both 
parties.  It  was  determined  to  suspend  for  a  time  the  office  of  the 
consuls,  and  to  create  in  their  place  six  military  tribunes,  with  a 
similar  extent  of  power,  three  of  wliom  should  be  patricians  and 
three  plebeians.  This  proposal  was  heartily  embraced  by  the  peo- 
ple, who,  provided  they  were  admitted  to  the  chief  dignity  of  the 
state,  did  not  value  under  what  title  it  was  ;  and  the  senators, 
on  the  other  hand,  flattered  themselves  that,  having  preserved 
the  consulship  inviolate,  diey  would  soon  be  able  to  restore  that 
magistracy.  While  they  were  thus  soothing  themselves  with  shad- 
owy distinctions,  it  was  very  evident  that  they  were  daily  losing 
substantial  power. 

It  was  customary  for  those  who  were  candidates  for  any 
magistracy  to  appear  in  the  Comitia^  clad  in  white  apparel. 
The  plebeians,  who  aspired  to  the  military  tribunate,  appeared 
accordingly  in  that  dress  ;  but  as  the  votes  were  called  by  cen- 
turies, and  the  patricians  had  been  at  some  pains  to  influence  their 
dependents,  it  happened  that  not  one  of  the  plebeians  was  elected. 
Three  months  afterward,  the  military  tribunes,  as  had  been  pre- 
concerted, resigned  their  office  on  pretence  of  some  irregularity 
in  their  election.  A  powerful  canvass  was  now  set  on  foot  by 
the  plebeians  to  make  good  their  pretensions  to  the  new  magis* 


CH.  VI.]  THE    CENSORS.  34  • 

tracy;  hut  differing  in  their  choice  of  candidates,  and  finding  it 
impossible  to  arrive  at  an  unanimity  of  sentiment,  they  consenied. 
rather  than  yield  to  each  other,  that  the  consulate  should,  in  the 
meantime,  be  restored;  and  these  jealousies  being  artfully  kept 
alive  by  the  patricians,  it  thus  happened  that  there  was  no  election 
of  military  tribunes  for  several  years. 

AVar  and  domestic  dissensions  had  prevented  the  consuls  from 
making  tlie  usual  census  or  numeration  of  the  |)eople,  for  a  great 
many  years;  so  that  much  confusion  had  arisen  in  the  levying  of 
the  taxes,  from  ignorance  of  the  exact  number  of  the  citizens, 
and  the  proportion  of  burdens  to  be  levied  from  individuals.  To 
remedy  this  evil,  the  consuls  being  now  usually  too  much  occupied 
to  make  the  census  regularly  every  five  years,  the  senate  created 
two  new  magistrates  under  the  title  of  ceiisors;  an  office  which 
became  afterwards  of  the  highest  respectability,  and  was  given 
only  to  persons  of  consular  di:;nity. 

The  most  important  privilege  of  the  censors,  and  which,  in 
fact,  rendered  their  auliiority  lormidable  to  all  ranks  in  the  state, 
was  the  right  they  possessed  of  inspecting  the  morals,  and  ex- 
amining into  the  conduct  of  all  the  citizens.  It  was  in  virtue  of 
this  high  prerogative  that,  as  Livy  remarks,  they  kept  in  depend- 
ence both  the  senate  and  people.  They  possessed  a  constitutional 
power  of  degrading  such  as  had  manif'jsted  any  irregularity  of 
conduct,  and  depriving  them  of  the  rank  and  office  which  they 
held  in  the  state.  It  was  not  an  authority  which  extended  to  the 
punishment  of  those  ordinary  crimes  and  delicts  which  fall  under 
the  penal  laws  of  a  state.  But  there  are  offences  which,  in  point 
of  example,  are  worse  than  crimes,  and  more  pernicious  in  their 
consequences.  It  is  not  the  breach  of  express  laws  that  can  ever 
be  of  general  bad  effect,  or  tend  to  the  destruction  of  a  covern- 
ment;  but  it  is  that  silent  and  unpunishable  corruption  of  man- 
ners, which,  undermining  private  and  public  virtue,  weakens  and 
destroys  those  springs  to  which  tiie  best  ordered  consiiluliot)  owes 
its  support.  The  counteractiu<;  this  latent  principle  of  decay  was 
the  most  useful  part  of  the  olTlce  of  t!ie  censors.  If  any  citizen 
had  imprudently  contracted  large  debts;  if  he  had  consumed  his 
fortune  in  extravagance,  or  in  living  beyond  his  income;  if  he 
bad  been  ne::ligent  in  the  cultivation  of  his  lands;  nay,  if,  being 
m  good  ciicumstances  and  able  to  maintain  a  family,  he  had  de- 
clined, without  just  cause,  to  marry, — all  these  offences  attracted 
the  notice  of  tiie  censors,  who  had  various  modes  of  inflicting  a 
penally.  The  most  usual,  and  not  the  li-ast  im|iiessive,  was  a 
public  (lenimciation  of  the  offender  as  an  object  of  disapproba- 
tion— fnf'"^'""""  nntnhaiit.  It  did  not  amount  to  a  mark  of  inlamy; 
but  punished  solely  b>  inflreting  the  shame  of  a  public  reprimand. 
A  penalty,  however,  of  this  kind  is  not  fitted  to  operate  on  all 
dispositions,  and  accordingly  the  censors  had  it  in  their  power  In 
employ  means  more  generally  effectual       They  could  degrade   • 


342  UNIVEHSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK  III 

senator  from  nis  (li^nily  and  strike  liis  name  out  of  the  roll.  The)' 
could  depiivo  a  knight  of  his  rank,  by  taking  Irom  him  the  horse 
which  was  maintained  for  him  at  the  public  expense,  and  was  the 
essential  mark  of  his  station.  A  citizen  might  bo  punished  by 
degrading  him  from  his  tribe  to  an  inferior  one,  or  doubling  his 
proportion  of  the  public  taxes.  These,  being  arbitrary  jjowers, 
might  have  been  greatly  abused;  but  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  to 
be  observed,  that  no  decree  of  the  censors  was  unalterable:  it 
might  be  suspended,  or  altogether  taken  off  by  a  sentence  of  the 
ordinary  judges,  or  by  a  decree  of  the  censors  of  the  succeeding 
Lustrum.  Cicero  tells  us,  that  Caius  Geta,  who  had  been  de- 
graded from  his  rank  of  senator  by  the  censors,  was  reinstated  in 
his  dignity  by  their  successors,  and  even  made  a  censor  himself; 
and  Livy  relates  a  similar  instance  of  Valerius  Messala. 

The  censorship,  from  these  extensive  powers,  was  accounted 
the  most  honorable  office  of  the  commonwealth.  From  the 
time  of  the  second  Punic  war,  the  censors  were  always  chosen 
from  such  persons  as  had  held  the  consulship.  After  the  ternnn- 
ation  of  the  republican  government,  the  censorship  was  exercised 
by  the  emperors,  and  justly  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  honora- 
ble and  important  branches  of  the  imperial  function. 

The  dissensions  between  the  orders  still  continued,  with  little 
variety  either  in  the  grievances  complained  of  on  the  part  of  the 
people,  or  in  the  modes  of  obtaining  or  rather  coinpelling  a  redress 
of  them.  The  last  resource  of  the  plebeians,  and  which  they 
generally  found  effectual,  was,  on  the  emergency  of  a  war,  to 
refuse  to  enter  the  rolls  until  the  senate  granted  their  demands. 
The  latter  body  now  bethought  itself  of  an  expedient  which  it  is 
rather  surprising  they  had  not  sooner  adopted:  this  was  to  purchase 
the  service  of  the  army  by  giving  a  regular  pay  to  the  troops. 
Hitherto,  in  all  the  military  enterprises,  the  citizens  enrolled,  served 
upon  their  own  charges.  It  was  a  tax  incumbent  on  every 
Roman  to  support  himself  during  war,  which  being  alike  a  burden 
on  every  free  citizen,  was  not  regarded  as  a  grievance,  but  as  the 
reasonable  price  which  he  paid  for  his  liberty  and  security.  Yet 
this  circumstance  necessarily  limited  the  duration  of  their  warlike 
operations  to  a  very  short  period;  for  when  the  army  was 
embodied,  the  lands  of  the  poorer  citizens,  who  had  no  slaves, 
were  entirely  neglected.  This  policy,  therefore,  was  not  only 
ruinous  to  the  people,  but  repressed  all  enlargement  of  the  Roman 
territory,  and  was  an  insuperable  bar  to  extensive  and  permanent 
conquests. 

The  senate  now  resolved  to  adopt  a  new  system.  They 
ordained  that,  in  future,  the  foot  soldiers  should  have  a  regular 
pay  from  the  public  treasury,  to  defray  which  burden  a  tax  should 
be  imposed  on  all  the  members  of  the  commonwealth  in  propor- 
tion to  their  means.  The  people,  who  did  not  penetrate  the 
motive  of  this  important  measure,  but  looked    only    to    the    im 


CH.   VI. J  PAT    OF    Tim    AR.MT.  343 

mediate  advantage  it  promised  in  relieving  them  from  uliat  they 
had  always  felt  a  very  heavy  burden,  were  I'lilly  satisfied  witli  the 
new  arrangement.  The  tribunes,  however,  either  looking  further 
mto  consequences,  or  perhaps  jealous  of  any  measure  wliirh, 
promising  an  harmonious  agreement  between  the  orders,  dimin- 
ished their  own  consequence  as  magistrates,  were  at  much  jiaina 
to  persuade  the  peo|)le  that  the  bounty  of  the  patrician-  was 
always  to  be  suspected,  and  sought  by  every  means  to  frustrate 
the  new  project.  They  failed,  however,  of  their  purpose.  The 
manifest  advantage  of  the  measure  prevailed  over  all  opposiiif)ii. 
The  patricians  set  the  example  and  began  the  contribution,  fairly 
paying  their  contingents  according  to  the  value  of  their  c-;tates. 
The  money  was  seen  passing  to  the  treasury  in  loaded  wasons, 
and  the  poorer  citizens,  pleased  with  the  sight,  paid  their  shares 
Avitli  ihe  utmost  alacrity,  anticipating  the  return  of  their  money 
with  high  profit  into  their  own  jiockets.* 

From  this  period  we  shall  see  the  Roman  system  of  war  as'stmie 
a  new  appearance.  The  senate  henceforward  always  lound 
soldiers  at  command  :  the  state  was  consequently  enabled  to 
engage  in  extensive  enterprises,  and  support  long  campaigns  : 
every  success  was  more  signal  and  important,  because  it  was 
maintained  and  prosecuted;  and  every  conquest  was  turned  tc 
permanent  advantage.  A  most  material  consequence  likewise 
arose  to  the  constitution  of  the  re])ublic;  the  senate,  by  connnand 
over  the  troops,  obtained  a  favorable  balance  to  its  otherwise 
decreasing  authority. 

One  of  the  first  measures  which  owed  its  success  to  this  change 
in  the  Roman  art  of  war  was  the  siege  of  Veii,  a  city  at  iha» 
time  equal  in  extent  and  population  to  Rome,  and  a  formidable 
rival  to  her  power  and  ascendency  among  the  states  of  Italy.  A 
formal  siege  w-as  a  new  attempt  to  the  Romans,  who  had  hitherto 
limited  their  enterprises  to  small  towns,  which  they  could  take  by 
surprise  or  storm.  In  their  ancient  mode  of  attacking  towns, 
their  most  refined  manoeuvre  was  the  corona,  which  was  per- 
formed by  surrounding  the  place  and  attacking  it  i.  once  on  every 
quarter.  A  city  capable  of  resisting  this  assault  was  deemed  im- 
pregnable. '^I'he  Romans,  who  were  now  in  a  capacity  to  form 
lengthened  enterprises,  were,  from  that  circumstance,  a  greaf 
overmatch  for  any  of  the  surrounding  states,  as  well  as  from  the 
improvement  we  must  suppose  the  art  of  war  underwent  from  itj 
now  becoming  a  profession  instead  of  an  occasional  employmenl 
The  dominion  of  Rome  had  been  hitherto  conlined  to  the  terri- 
tory of  a  few   miles   around   the  city:  we  shall  now  see  how  rapid 


•  We  are  not  informed  by  any  of  the  ancient  writers  what  pay  wa.'«  nllotled 
to  the  Roman  soldiers  at  this  period;  but  in  the  time  of  Poiybius,  that  i»,  »t 
the  era  of  tiie  .second  Piinir.  war,  each  foot  soldier  was  allowed  two  ohoii  ■ 
day  — a  centurion  double  that  pay. 


^44  UNIVERSAL  HisTonr,  [book  mi 

was   llie  extension  of  her  bounds,  and   llie   slrenglh   acquired   hy 
her  concjuests. 

The  siege  of  Veii  was  prolonged  for  ten  years.  An  army 
wintering  on  the  field  was  a  thing  till  then  quite  unexampled;  and 
during  the  whole  time  of  this  siege,  the  tribunes,  who  suiTered  no 
occasion  to  pass  unimproved  that  promised  to  excite  discord  and 
domestic  faction,  loudly  complained  that  this  intolerable  war  was 
nothing  else  than  a  conspiracy  against  liberty;  a  design  to  weaken 
the  party  of  the  j)lcbcians,  by  depriving  them  of  the  suffrages  of 
those  who  were  with  the  army,  while  the  latter,  as  they  hinted, 
were  to  be  inhumanly  sacrificed  in  order  to  give  the  patricians  the 
entire  command  of  the  commonwealth.  Having  fiill  conviction 
of  these  designs,  the  patriotic  tribunes  felt  it  their  duty  to  oppose 
the  levying  the  tax  for  furnishing  the  military  pay.  The  army 
of  course  soon  began  to  mutiny;  and  the  consequence  must  have 
been  the  abandonment  and  defeat  of  the  enterprise,  had  not  the 
patricians  found  means  to  soothe  them  by  electing  one  of  their 
number  to  the  military  tribunate.  This  well-timed  sacrifice  of  a 
little  power  taken  from  the  scale  of  the  higher  order,  quieted  the 
spirit  of  the  opposition,  and  the  campaign  was  not  frustrated  of 
its  supplies. 

The  siege  of  Veil  proceeded,  as  we  have  said,  very  slowly, 
and  during  its  continuance,  Rome  was  afflicted  both  by  real  and 
by  imaginary  calamities.  A  dreadful  pestilence  broke  out;  and 
the  books  of  the  Sibyls  were  consulted,  which  declared  that  the 
only  remedy  was  a  Ledisternium^  a  ceremony  now  performed  for 
the  first  time.  An  Invitation  was  given  to  the  chief  gods  of  the 
Roman  state,  to  partake  of  a  splendid  festival  prepared  for  them 
with  uncommon  expense.  The  statues  of  Jupiter,  Apollo,  Latona, 
Diana,  Hercules,  Mercury,  and  Neptune,  were  laid  upon  three 
magnificent  beds,  and  for  eight  days  the  most  sumptuous  banquets 
w-ere  presented  to  these  Images,  which  of  course  were  eaten  by 
their  priests  and  partly  distributed  to  the  populace.  Durin?  that 
time,  the  gates  of  the  city  were  open  to  all  strangers;  the  courts 
of  law  were  shut,  and  all  litigation  suspended;  the  prisoners  were 
set  at  liberty,  and  every  citizen  kept  open  tables  for  all  comers. 
Although,  perhaps,  this  ceremony  might  owe  its  origin  to  super- 
stition alone,  it  is  not  impossible  that  It  might  actually  have  been 
attended  with  salutary  effects.  It  is  well  known  that  in  e|)ideniic 
and  contagious  diseases,  nothing  so  much  predisposes  to  infection 
as  fear  and  apprehension.  A  jubilee  of  this  kind,  by  exhilarating 
the  spirits  of  the  people,  and  banishing  for  a  while  care  and 
anxiety,  might  naturally  contribute  to  check  the  diffusion,  and 
abate  the  violence  of  the  contagion.  ' 

Veil  was  still  blockaded;  and  as  this  enterprise  greatly  engrossed 
the  minds  of  the  public,  every  thing  In  that  age  of  superstition 
was  construed  into  a  good  or  a  bad  omen.  The  lake  of  Alba  in- 
creased prodigiously,  and  deputies  were  sent  to  inquire  what  the 


en      VI.]  PETTY    REVOLUTION'S.  3  J5 

gods  meant  by  that  extraordinary  phenomenon.  The  doputiey 
brought  back  word  that  the  conquest  of  Veii  depended  on  draining 
the  lake,  and  that  particular  care  sliould  be  taken  to  convey  the 
waters  to  the  sea;  (a  most  wise  and  salutary  advice,  in  a  season 
of  contagious  disease.)  The  work  was  immediately  begun;  and 
that  fine  canal  was  cut,  which  subsists  at  this  day,  and  conveys 
the  waters  of  the  lake  Aibano,  by  Caslel-Gondoljo,  to  the  sea. 
This  was  likewise  an  instance  in  which  the  faith  of  the  people  in 
the  veracity  of  the  prediction  might  have  greatly  aided  its  accom- 
plishment. In  the  present  case,  however,  it  is  probable  that  the 
valor  of  the  besieged  Veientes  liad  powerful  incitements,  and 
perhaps  from  a  similar  improvement  of  popular  prejudices  to  wise 
purposes;  for  Veii  continued  for  a  long  j)eriod  of  time  to  baffle 
every  eflbrt  of  the  Roman  power.  At  length,  in  the  tenth  year 
of  tlie  siege,  Marcus  Furius  Camillus  was  chosen  dictator,  an 
intrepid  and  skilful  general,  who  had  the  honor  of  fini>thiMg  this 
obstinate  war,  by  the  taking  of  the  city  in  the  ooSlli  year  of 
Rome,  and  091  b.  c. 

The  Romans  had  but  very  few  laws  of  a  political  nature,  or 
such  as  regulated  the  form  of  their  governments,  or  defined  the 
constitutional  powers  and  rights  of  the  distinct  orders  of  the  state. 
It  is,  therefore,  no  matter  of  surprise,  to  find  that  perpetual  contest 
between  tliose  orders,  giving  rise  to  all  that  series  of  petty  revolu- 
tions, which  form  almost  entirely  the  history  of  the  Roman  re- 
public, for  the  period  of  above  four  centuries.  During  the  regal 
government,  the  people  had,  in  reality,  more  genuine  liberty,  than 
for  some  time  after  its  abolition,  while  the  constitution  was  almost 
purely  aristocratical;  for  the  kings,  though  they  sought  to  humble 
the  aspiring  patricians,  were  extremely  moderate  towards  the 
plebeians,  who  were  thus  brought  very  near  to  a  level  with  the 
superior  order.  But  under  the  aristocracy  which  followed  the 
expulsion  of  the  king,  the  patricians,  wlio  were  the  governors  of 
the  state,  made  it  tiieir  principal  object  to  increase  and  confirm 
their  power,  by  reducing  the  plebeians  to  absolute  submission  and 
dependence.  Hence,  those  oppressive  measures,  which  at  length 
produced  that  stubborn  opposition  and  resistance  on  the  )iarl  of 
the  people,  which  nothing  could  allay  but  the  concession  of 
3ieating  maiiistiates  from  their  own  order,  and  giving  them  a  con- 
5tiluiional  weight  and  legal  inHuence  in  the  state.  This  impor- 
tant ste|)  being  once  surmounted,  every  subscrpient  struggle  of 
parties  added  fresh  weight  to  the  popular  scale;  and  there  were 
now  two  separate  bodies  in  the  rcpul)lic,  each  eagerly  contending 
for  its  sovereignty,  and  studious  of  every  meiiiod  o^  liuiiibling  and 
abasing  the  other. 

It  cannot  be  said  that   the    Romans  were  at  this  time   a  free 

people,    for  neither  of  the  orders  was  really  so.     The  pairicans 

were  not  free,  for  they  were  amenable  to  the  popular  assemblies; 

a  court   where  the  judges   were   their  jealous   rivals  and  naturai 

VOL.  I.  44 


S46  UNIVERSAL    IIISTOUY.  |  BOOK    III 

enemies.  Nor  could  the  plebeians  be  snicl  to  enjoy  liberty,  for 
they  neither  enjoyed  the  secuirity  of  property  nor  of  person,  from 
the  extreme  rigor  of  the  laws  regardinj;;  debtors,  in  which  situa- 
tion the  great  mass  of  the  people  stood  with  resjjcct  to  the  richer 
citizens.  Even  in  the  popular  assemblies,  when  the  comitia  were 
called  in  the  order  of  the  centuries,  tiie  people  met,  only  to 
witness  the  enactment  of  laws,  which  comnionly  struck  against 
their  own  liberties;  not  to  mention  the  right  of  the  senate  at  any 
time  to  nominate  a  dictator  who  had  absolute  authority  in  the 
state. 

The  plebeians,  however,  under  all  those  disadvantaires,  were, 
as  we  have  seen,  advancing,  step  by  step,  to  an  equality  with  the 
partricians  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  offices  of  the  commonwealth, 
which  they  now  very  soon  obtained.  It  is  easy  to  discern  that 
this  single  circumstance — the  election  of  the  chief  magistrates  in 
the  comitia  held  by  centuries — formed  now  the  only  obstacle  to 
an  equality  of  power  between  the  orders.  It  may,  perhaps,  be 
sup{)0sed,  that  at  this  period  of  the  commonwealth,  when  many 
of  the  plebeians  had  acquired  considerable  wealth,  and  con- 
sequently came  to  be  arranged  in  the  first  or  higher  classes,  the 
number  of  these  rich  plebeians  would  frequently  turn  the  ballance, 
even  in  the  comitia  centuriata,  in  favor  of  their  own  order;  and 
so,  in  fact,  it  did  sometimes  happen;  but  this  was  not  usual :  for 
as  the  censors  had  the  power  of  arrangement,  they  commonly 
took  care  tiiat  the  first  classes,  though  composed  in  jiart  of  weal- 
thy plebeians,  should  iiave  in  them,  at  least,  a  considerable  major- 
ity of  patricians,  which  secured  the  vote  of  the  whole  class. 

In  order  to  overcome  this  manifest  disadvantage  to  their  order, 
the  popular  magistrates  might  have  followed  either  of  the  two 
different  plans.  Tiie  one,  the  most  difficult  of  accomplishment, 
was  the  procuring  the  election  of  the  higher  magistrates  to  be 
made  in  the  comitio  tributa;  the  other,  in  case  they  failed  in  that 
attempt,  was  to  bring  about  the  same  order  of  voting  in  the  comitia 
centuriata^  or  to  make  the  lot  determine  which  class  should  take 
the  lead  in  giving  their  suffrage.  And  it  has  been  supposed  that 
they  did  effect  something  of  this  nature;  for  Livy  speaks  of  the 
prerogative  class  in  the  election  of  the  higher  magistrates,  which 
was  the  term  used  to  signify  that  class  in  the  comitia  tribiila,  on 
which  the  lot  fell  to  vote  first.  Livy,  however,  in  this  expres- 
sion, might  mean  nothing  more  than  to  signify  that  class  wliich, 
in  point  of  rank,  was  entitled  to  vote  first;  so  that  no  conclusive 
argument  can  be  founded  on  this  indefinite  expression  he  has 
used.  , 

The  siege  and  conquest  of  Veii  was  a  presage  of  the  fiiture 
grandeur  of  the  Roman  state.  It  was  impossible  for  the  small, 
detached,  and  independent  states  of  Italy  to  withstand  a  nation 
fllways  in  arms,  whose  hish  ambition  and  unremitting  persever- 
ance were  equal  to  the  projecting  and  accomplishing  of  any  enter- 


CII     VI.]  WAR    WITH    THE     GAULS.  34"? 

prise  in  the  way  of  conquest.  It  might  naturally  he  suppcsed,  tliat 
those  smaller  states,  aware  of  the  great  advantage  which  Rome  had 
gained  by  her  system  of  professionary  soldiers,  would  either  imitate 
her  in  adopting  the  same  plan,  or  at  least  take  precaution,  by  an  ex- 
tensive system  of  offensive  and  defensive  alliance  between  them- 
selves, to  guard  against  tliis  formidable  and  encroaching  power;  but 
it  does  not  a|)pear  tliat  either  of  these  measures  was  adopted;  and 
the  consequence  was,  that  signal  inferiority  which  was  the  cause 
of  tiieir  progressive,  and  at  length  total  subjugation  to  the  Roman 
arms. 

The  conquest  of  Veii  was  succeeded  by  a  war  with  the  Gauls. 
This  formidable  people — alone  a  cause  of  serious  alarm  to  the 
Roman  power — was  a  branch  of  the  great  ancient  nation  of  the 
Cellre.*  They  are  said  to  have  first  entered  Italy  in  the  reign 
of  Tarquinius  Priscus.  They  opened  to  themselves  a  pa^^sage 
through  the  Alps,  made  four  different  irruptions,  and  settled  them- 
selves in  the  northern  part  of  the  Peninsula,  between  the  Al|is  and 
Apennines,  from  which  they  had  expelled  the  Etruscans,  and  built 
for  themselves  several  cities.  They  had  been  settled  in  this  coun- 
try above  200  years,  when,  under  the  command  of  Brennus,  (a.  u. 
c.  362,)  they  laid  siege  to  Clusinm.  The  Etruscans  solicited 
the  aid  of  the  Romans,  who  sent  some  deputies  in  order  to 
mediate  a  reconciliation;  but  these  deputies,  being  provoked  by 
the  pride  of  tiie  barbarians,  joined  themselves  to  the  Etrurian 
army,  and  made  an  attack  on  the  Gauls;  a  breach  of  the  law  of 
nations,  for  which  Brennus  immediately  sent  to  Rome  to  demand 
satisfaction.  The  Romans  were  not  inclined  to  grant  it;  but  im- 
prudently justified,  and  even  conferred  honor  on,  the  offending 
delegates.  The  consequence  was,  that  Brennus,  raising  the  siege 
of  Clusinm,  marched  directly  to  Rome. 

There  is  nothing  which  tends  more  to  encourage  doubts  regard- 
ing the  authenticity  of  the  Roman  history  at  this  period,  tiian  the 
circumstances  which  their  writers  have  recorded  of  this  war  with 
the  Gauls.  Three  years  before  its  connnencement,  the  Roman 
citizens  capable  of  bearing  arms  amounted,  according  to  the 
numeration  of  the  censors,  to  above  150,000  men.  After  the 
first  engagement  with  the  Gauls,  in  which  a  Roman  army  amounl- 
ng  to  40,000  was  defeated,  we  find  Rome  so  absolutely  defence- 
loss,  that  the  barbarians  entered  the  city  without  oppnsinon,  and 
massacred  the  senators  in  cold  blood,  who  were  sitting  patiently 


•The  more  ancient  Greek  writers  hestow  ihe  name  of  Celtir  indifTerently  on 
the  (Jaiils  and  Gernian>»  Otiiers  eoiifini'  lint  appellation  to  llie  mtives  of  (Inul 
proper;  while  some  antlior?*  include  under  it  the  Spaniardu,  coimtenanrrd  in 
thai  notion  by  the  trrin  Crltihrrlnns.  'I'he  name  (Viln?,  however,  in  Mif  Uom«n 
writers,  seems  to  he  applied  exi'liisivelv  to  tlie  inhabitants  of  Gallia,  or  ihiit  eoiin- 
try  of  wfiich  Cn-sar,  in  the  beginning  oi'his  I'ominenlarie.i,  haji  aecnratelv  tictcrib 
ed  the  limits. 


318  UNIVERSAL    HISTORT.  [nOOK    III 

wailing  for  death  at  tlio  doors  of  tlioir  lioiiscs.  Tlic  Gauls  then 
set  fire  to  ilie  city,  which  they  hiiriied  to  the  ground.  About  a 
thousand  inhabitants  shut  tlieinselves  up  in  the  capitol,  which 
still  liL'ld  out  against  the  enemy;  but  this  fortress  would  havo 
been  surprised  and  taken  by  assault  in  the  night,  had  not  sonnfi 
geese,  more  wakeful  than  the  sentinels,  alarmed  the  garrisou  by 
their  screaming,  antl  thus  defeated  the  enemy's  escalade.  Tlie 
garrison,  however,  was  soon  reduced  to  extremity  from  want  of 
provisions,  and  a  capitulation  ensued,  by  which  the  Romans  agreed 
to  purchase  a  peace  for  a  certain  price  in  solid  gold,  which  tlie 
Gauls  were  weighing  out  with  false  weights,  when  Camillus,  with  a 
large  army,  (how  assembled  we  are  left  to  guess,)  most  seasonably 
came  to  the  relief  of  his  country,  and  engaging  the  enemy,  ob- 
tained so  complete  a  victory,  that  in  one  day's  time  there  was  not 
a  single  Gaul  remaining  wiiliin  the  territory  of  Rome.  Is  it  not 
surprising  that  the  sagacious  Livy  should  gravely  relate,  as  a  piece 
of  authentic  history,  such  facts  as  are  utterly  irreconcilable  to 
common  probability? 

The  destruction  of  Rome  by  the  Gauls  is  said  to  have  given  rise 
to  a  scheme  which  was  eagerly  promoted  by  the  tribunes  of  the 
people,  the  removal  of  the  seat  of  government  to  Veii.  Camillus 
opposed  the  measure  in  an  animated  oration,  which  is  recorded,  or 
rather  composed,  by  Livy.*  But  the  orator's  eloquence  would 
probably  have  failed  of  its  effect,  had  not  popular  superstition  con- 
tributed to  aid  his  counsels.  A  centurion,  mustering  his  nien  in 
the  forum,  called  out  to  one  of  the  standard-bearers,  "  Here  fix 
your  banners;  here  we  shall  do  best  to  remain. "f  The  omen  was 
received  by  a  general  acclamation  of  the  people,  and  all  design  of 
<ibandoning  the  city  was  instantly  laid  aside. 

Rome,  desolated  and  burnt  to  the  ground,  seems  very  speedily 
to  nave  recovered  from  her  misfortunes  ;  for  we  find,  in  a  very 
few  years,  a  renewal  of  the  same  intestine  disorders,  the  same 
'ealousies  and  obstinate  contention  for  power  between  the  patricians 
and  plebeians,  which  in  fact  for  about  two  centuries  form  all  that  is 
nteiesting  in  the  history  of  the  Roman  commonwealth. 

It  is  somewhat  extraordinary  that  most  of  the  revolutions  of  the 
Roman  state  should  have  owed  their  origin  to  women.  To  a 
woman,  Rome  owed  the  abolition  of  the  regal  dignity  and  the 
establishment  of  the  republic.  To  a  woman,  she  owed  her  delivery 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  decemviri,  and  the  restoration  of  the  con- 
sular government;  and  to  a  woman,  we  shall  now  see,  she  owed 
that  change  of  the  constitution  by  which  the  plebeians  became 
caj)able  of  liolding  the  highest  offices  of  the  commonweahh. 

Marcus  Fabius  Ambustus   liad  given  one   of  his   daughters   in 


*  Liv.  V.  51,  &c. 

\  Signifer,  statue  signum  : — liic  manebimus  optinie,     Liv.  v.  55. 


CU    VI.]  LICI.VIUS    AND    SEXTIUS.  349 

marriage  to  Liclniiis  Stolo,  a  plebeian,  and  thn  nihor  to  Serviiis 
Sulpiiiiis,  a  patrician,  and  at  that  time  one  of  the  military  iril)iines 
One  day,  wlien  the  wife  of  the  jilebeian  was  at  her  sister's  house, 
ihe  lictor  who  walked  before  Sulpitius,  on  his  return  from  the 
senate,  knocked  loudly  at  the  door  with  the  staff  of  the  fasces,  to 
give  notice  that  the  magistrate  was  coining  in.  ""I'liis  noise,  to 
which  the  wife  of  Licinius  was  not  accustomed,  threw  her  into  a 
panic.  Iler  sister  laughed  at  her  alarm,  and  threw  out  a  malicious 
jest  on  the  inequality  of  their  condiiious.  A  very  small  matter, 
says  Livy,  is  sufficient  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  a  woman's  mind. 
The  younger  Fabia  took  this  aflront  most  seriously  to  heart.  She 
comj)lained  to  her  father,  who,  to  comfort  her,  promised  that  he 
would  do  his  utmost  endeavor  that  her  husband  should  have  his 
lictor  as  well  as  her  elder  sister's.  This  trifling  circumstance  is 
said  to  have  been  the  cause  of  the  admission  of  the  plebeian  order 
to  the  consular  dignity. 

Fabius  concerted  his  plan  with  his  son-in-law  Licinius,  and  with 
Lucius  Sextius,  a  young,  enterprising  plebeian.  At  the  next 
election  for  the  tribunes  of  the  people,  Licinius  and  Sextius  liad 
interest  to  be  nominated  to  that  office.  One  of  their  first  measures 
was  the  proposal  of  three  new  laws.  The  first  was  in  favor  of 
debtors,  and  enacted  that  there  should  be  an  abatement  of  the 
princij)al  sums  due  in  proportion  to  the  interest  that  had  l)een  paid 
on  them.  The  second  enacted  that  no  Roman  citizen  should 
possess  more  than  five  hundred  acres  of  land  :  and  by  the  third  it 
was  proposed  to  be  decreed  that  the  military  tribunate  should 
henceforward  be  abolished,  and  two  consuls  elected,  the  one  from 
the  order  of  the  patricians,  the  other  from  that  of  the  plebeians. 

The  patricians,  it  may  be  believed,  gave  the  strongest  ojiposition 
to  all  these  laws.  They  secured  to  their  interest  the  colleagues 
of  Sextius  and  Licinius,  and  by  their  veto  the  propositions  wtM-e 
thrown  out.  Sextius,  however,  was  not  discouraged,  but  boldly 
threatened  that  he  would  make  the  higher  order  sensible  of  the 
power  of  his  veto  in  return.  He  and  his  colleague  Licinius  had 
the  address  to  be  continued  in  office  for  five  successive  years, 
during  all  which  time  they  obstinately  opposed  the  election  both 
of  military  tribunes  and  of  consuls;  so  that  in  that  period  there 
were  no  other  magistrates  than  the  tribunes  of  the  people  and  the 
aediles. 

Amidst  these  disorders,  a  war  broke  out  with  the  inhal)i(ants  of 
Velitra:,  and  soon  after  with  the  Gnuls.  The  senate  had  no  other 
resource  but  to  create  a  dictator;  but  that  office,  from  being  too 
frequent,  had  lost  much  of  its  respect  and  its  terrors.  Camillus, 
at  the  age  of  eighty,  was,  for  the  fifth  time,  appointed  dictator  :  he 
was  successful  in  defeating  the  enemy,  but  he  could  not  repress 
he  ambitious  schemes  of  the  tribunes.  These  magistrates,  at 
length,  by  inflexible  perseverance,  carried  their  |ioin(.  They 
obtained  a  decree  of  the   jjcoplc   that   the   military  tribunal  should 


S-jO  universal  history.  [book  III. 

be  abollslicd,  and  iliat  lienceforth  one  of  tlie  consuls  slionld  be 
chosen  from  llic  order  of  the  plebeians;  and  tbis  important  decree 
the  seiuite  was  forced  to  confiim.  Camilliis  proposed  that  tbere 
should  be  a  new  magistrate  created  from  the  patrician  order,  for 
the  administration  of  justice;  as  the  consuls,  in  their  function  of 
generals  of  the  republic,  had  too  much  occupation  to  attend  to 
their  judicial  duties.  The  people,  extremely  gratified  by  the  great 
accession  of  power  and  privilege  to  their  order,  consented  cheer- 
fully to  the  proposal;  and  a  new  magistrate  was  created  with  the 
title  of  Prcdor^  an  officer  often  mentioned  in  the  Roman  laws,  and 
of  very  high  dignity.  He  was  decorated  with  the  robe  called  the 
prcctexla^  bordered  with  purple;  he  had  the  curule,  or  ivory  chair 
of  state,  and  he  was  attended  by  a  guard  of  six  lictors.  As  the 
prffitorsliip  was  formed  by  conferring  on  a  separate  magistrate  what 
had  formerly  been  a  branch  of  the  consular  office,  the  patricians, 
who  got  this  new  office  annexed  to  their  order,  had  thus  a  sort  of 
compensation  for  the  important  concession  they  had  made  to  the 
people.  At  first  only  one  magistrate  was  created  with  the  tide  of 
praetor;  but  afterwards  the  vast  increase  of  civil  causes  occasioned 
the  creation  of  many.  In  the  time  of  Sylla  there  were  eight 
prjEtors.  Julius  Caesar  increased  the  number  to  ten,  and  afterwards 
to  sixteen;  and  the  second  triumvirate  created  no  less  than  sixty- 
four  praetors.  After  that  time,  we  meet  sometimes  with  twelve, 
and  sometimes  sixteen  or  eighteen  praetors;  but  in  the  decline  of 
the  empire  we  commonly  find  no  more  that  three.  When  the  num- 
ber of  the  pra;tors  was  thus  increased,  and  the  qiicestione.f^  or  trials 
for  crimes  were  made  perpetual,  instead  of  being  committed  to 
officers  chosen  for  the  occasion,  there  was  one  prretor  distinguished 
by  the  epithet  of  iirhanus^  who  had  the  cognizance  of  civil  suits, 
arid  the  others  were  special  judges  in  particular  crimes  or  offences. 
The  latter  were  therefore  sometimes  called  quccsitores^  quia  qxirtre- 
bant  dc  crimine;  the  function  of  the  former  was  simplv  jus  dicere, 
or  to  judge  in  civil  questions  between  the  citizens.  The  era  of  the 
creation  of  this  new  magistracy,  and  of  the  admission  of  the  ple- 
beian order  to  the  consulate,  was  the  386th  year  from  the  founda- 
tion of  Rome.  Two  new  aediles  were  at  the  same  time  created 
from  the  patrician  order,  W'ith  the  epithet  of  curu/es  or  majores;  and 
theii'  office  was  to  take  care  of  the  temples,  and  to  preside  at  the 
public  games  and  spectacles. 

The  ambition  of  the  principal  plebeians  was  now  satisfied,  and 
the  patricians  had  in  return  some  small  gratification  by  these  new 
offices.  It  remained  now  only  that  the  populace  should  likewise 
be  gratified,  and  this  was  done  by  the  Licinian  law,  which  enacted 
that  no  Roman  citizen  should  possess  above  five  hundred  acres  of 
lar.d,  and  that  the  surplus  should  be  distributed  at  a  settled  and 
low  rate  of  price  among  the  poorest  of  the  people,  ^^'e  must 
conclude  that  the  territory  of  tlie  republic  was  at  this  time  very 
greatly  enlarged,  when  such  a  regulation  was  either  necessary  or 
oracticable. 


CU    VI.]  LICI.VIAN    LAW  851 

It  might  have  hccn  expected  that  these  new  arrangeinenta 
U'ould  have  been  attended,  at  least  for  some  time,  with  jjublic 
tranquillity  ;  but  this  was  a  situation  which  the  popular  magistrates 
could  not  endure,  for  the  authority  and  credit  of  the  tribunes  kept 
pace  with  the  public  disorders.  These  magistrates  were  at  infi- 
nite pains  to  convince  the  people  that,  by  consenting  to  the  crea- 
tion of  the  new  offices  of  Pr;etor  and  .(Edile,  they  had  lost  more 
power  than  they  had  gained  by  the  admission  of  their  order  to  the 
consulate.  They  therefore  urged  that  it  would  be  mean  and 
pusillanimous  to  stop  short  in  their  pretensions  till  they  had  ob- 
tained an  equal  right  with  the  patriciang  to  all  the  dignities  of  the 
state,  sacerdotal  as  well  as  civil. 

The  dissensions  were  therefore  renewed  with  the  same  ardor  as 
ever.  A  pestilence  gave  for  some  time  a  miserable  inter\al  of 
tranquillity.  The  priests,  to  put  a  stop  to  this  calamity,  which 
threatened  to  depopulate  the  city,  tried  every  expedient  which 
policy  or  superstition  could  devise.  A  Leclisternium  was  cele- 
brated, and  scenic  representations  were  for  the  first  time  introduced 
at  Rome,  borrowed,  it  is  said,  from  Etruria.  But  all  was  to  no 
l)urpose.  The  plague,  however,  is  recorded  to  have  yielded  at 
last  to  the  ceremony  of  driving  a  nail  into  the  temple  of  Jupiter. 
This,  a  French  writer*  remarks,  was  curing  one  contagious  dis- 
ease by  another  yet  more  contagious  ;  meaning,  no  doubt,  that  the 
encouragement  of  superstition  is  worse  than  the  pestilence — a  sen- 
timent which  is  not  happily  applied  to  the  case  of  a  rude  people, 
whose  superstitious  prejudices  are  the  safeguard  of  their  morals, 
and  will  be  cherished  by  a  wise  legislator  as  an  engine  of  good 
policy. 

The  war  still  continued  :  the  Gauls  were  ever  making  new 
attempts,  and  almost  constantly  with  bad  success.  It  was  found 
expedient,  however,  very  frequently  to  resort  to  the  creation  of  a 
dictator  ;  and  such  was  tiie  ascendt.'ncy  which  the  plebeians  had 
now  obtained,  that  even  this  supreme  and  despotic  magistrate  was 
sometimes  chosen  from  their  order.  It  might  have  been  foreseen 
that  the  privilege  of  being  elected  to  the  consulate  necessarily  led 
to  this — for  it  was  the  province  of  the  corntuh  to  name  the  dictator. 
The  plebeians  had  by  this  time  likewise  obtained  the  curule  aediie- 
ship  ;  they  had  now  nothing  more  to  as|)ire  to  than  the  censorship, 
the  praetorship,  and  the  priesthood.  The  senate,  with  great 
weakness,  but  at  the  satne  time  with  great  obstinacy,  were  always 
ready  to  renew  th^ir  attempts  at  every  new  election  to  exclude 
the  plebeians.  Tliev  sometimes  succeeded,  but  they  always  lost 
more  by  this  opposition  than  they  gained.  They  prevailed  at  one 
election  that  both  consuls  should  be  chosen  from  their  order  ;  but 
they  could  not  prevent  their  rivals  from  fully  imiemnifying  them- 
selves by  the  election  of  a  plebeian  censor. 

•Condillac. 


35*2  UNIVERSAL    HISTORT  FdOOK    III 


CHAPTER   VH. 

R(^MAN  History  continued — War  with  the  Samnites — Devotion  of  Deciu*— 
Discfrace  of  the  Caudine  Forks — Popular  pretensions  increase — Tlie  PIcbeianj 
admitted  to  the  Priesthood — War  with  Pvrrhus,  King  of  Epirus — His  Defeat 
— Conquest  of  all  Italy  by  the  Romans — Incorporation  of  the  conquered  Na- 
tions— .Manner  in  which  the  Rights  of  Citizenship  were  extended. 

Soon  after  this  time  a  war  began  with  tlie  people  of  Samniuni  , 
and  it  was  this  war  whicli  led  the  Romans  to  the  conquest  of  all 
Italy.  The  Samnites  inhabited  a  district  to  the  south  of  the  Ro- 
man territory,  and  separated  from  it  by  Latium.  They  had  hith- 
erto had  no  hostile  interference  with  the  Romans,  and  there  was 
even  a  treaty  of  alliance  subsisting  between  them ;  but  the  Latins, 
Hernici,  ^^qui,  and  Volsci,  being  now  subdued,  that  is  to  say,  so 
weakened  that  they  were  obliged  either  to  become  subjects  or 
allies  of  the  republic,  the  Romans  now  came  to  be  the  immediate 
ne  gl.bors  of  the  Samnites,  and  of  course  their  enemies.  The 
citv  of  Capua  gave  occasion  to  the  war. 

Capua  was  the  principal  city  of  Campania,  one  of  the  finest 
and  most  fertile  countries  of  Italy.  This  city  then  was  extremely 
opulent  and  luxurious.  The  Samnites,  a  poor  but  walike  people, 
were  alhired  by  the  riches  of  their  neighbors,  and  invaded  Cam- 
pania. The  inhabitants  of  Capua,  after  some  feeble  attempts  to 
resist  the  invaders,  implored  aid  from  the  Romans.  The  senate 
answered,  that  their  alliance  with  the  Samnites  prevented  them 
from  giving  any  thing  else  than  their  compassion.  "If,  then," 
said  the  Capuans,  "you  will  not  defend  us,  you  will,  at  least,  de- 
fend yourselves ;  and  from  this  moment  we  give  ourselves,  our 
cities,  our  fields,  and  our  gods,  to  the  Romans,  and  become  their 
suojects."  The  senate  accepted  the  donation,  and  ordered  the 
Samnites  immediately  to  quit  their  territories.  The  necessary 
(Consequence  was  a  war,  in  which  the  Romans  were  so  successful, 
that  in  the  third  campaign  th.e  Samnites  were  glad  to  conclude  a 
peace,  and  renew  their  treaty  of  alliance. 

In  the  meantin-^,  the  Latins  had  recovered  strength,  and  medi- 
tated to  shake  off  the  Roman  yoke.  A  war  was  the  consequence, 
memorable  only  for  a  singular  instance  of  the  most  exalted  patri- 
otism in  the  consul  Decius.  This  great  man,  together  with  his 
colleague,  Torquatus,  headed  the  Roman  legions.  It  is  said  that 
both  the  consuls  had  had  a  dream,  or  seen  a  vision,  whicli  assured 
them  that   the  infernal  gods  required   that  one  of  the  contending 


B.  c.  295.]  DF.cius.  3o3 

armies  should  be  devoted  to  them,  and  one  c  f  the  contending  gen- 
erals ;  and  that  the  general  who  should  have  the  heroism  volunta- 
rily to  devote  himself,  would  thus  doom  the  army  of  the  eneuiy  lo 
certain  destruction.  The  two  consuls  agreed  lo  make  tliis  heroic 
sacrifice  ;  and  it  was  resolved  between  them,  as  they  commanded 
separate  divisions  of  the  army,  that  he  whosf^  division  first  gave 
way,  should  immediately  devote  himself  to  deuih.  It  was  in  the 
meantime  strictly  enjoined  to  the  troops,  that  no  soldier  should, 
during  the  engagement,  advance  beyond  his  rank,  as  instances  of 
fiautic  valor  were  then  extremely  common.  The  battle  began  ; 
and  Titus  Manlius,  the  son  of  the  consul  Torquatus,  being  chal- 
lenged by  a  Latin  captain,  accepted  the  summons,  defeated  his 
antagonist,  and  returned  with  his  spoils  to  the  main  army.  Hi? 
father,  with  a  true  Roman  severity,  ordered  his  head  to  be  struck 
off  for  disobedience.  The  division  commanded  by  Decius  havine 
begun  to  give  way,  he  caused  the  Pontifex  Maximus  to  perform 
in  haste  the  ceremony  of  consecration;  then,  girding  himself  closely 
with  his  robe,  he  spurred  his  horse  with  fury  into  the  thickest  of 
the  enemies'  battalions,  where  he  was  instantly  cut  to  pieces. 
The  Romans,  now  confident  of  success,  rushed  on,  and  the  Latins 
were  entirely  defeated.  The  conquerors,  by  pursuing  their  suc- 
i-pis,  might  have  anniliilated  the  Latin  name  ;  but  they  chose  lo 
deal  more  humanely  with  the  vanquished  foe,  and  lo  preser\e 
them  in  the  character  of  allied  states,  on  whom  they  imposed  sep- 
arate conditions  of  peace,  according  to  the  different  degrees  of 
merit  or  demerit  which  each  had  exhibited. 

Meantime  the  war  with  the  Samnites  was  renewed,  and  carried 
on  for  above  ten  years  with  various  success  ;  many  of  the  other 
states  of  Italy  taking  a  part  in  the  quarrel.  One  event  which 
much  humbled  the  pride  of  the  Romans,  was  the  disgrace  ihcy 
underwent  at  Caudiurn.  The  Samnites,  surprisinz  ihcin  in  a 
narrow  defile  near  that  town,  [Fwcm  Caudince^)  i>ad  it  in  their 
power  to  cut  them  off  lo  a  man.  Pontius,  the  general  of  the 
Samnites,  made  the  whole  Roman  army,  with  the  consuls  at  their 
head,  naked  and  disarmed,  pass  under  the  yoke; — a  scene  de- 
scriiied  by  Livy  with  srcat  force  of  natural  painting,  in  iho  bepn- 
ning  of  the  ninth  book  of  his  history.  The  historian  relates,  thai 
when  the  consuls  first  informed  the  army  of  the  fate  which  the 
enemy  had  decreed  they  should  undergo,  the  soldiers  vented  their 
rage  in  execrations  against  their  commanders,  as  the  aiiilK«rs  of 
this  degradation,  and  were  ready  to  tear  them  in  pieces  :  but  when 
the  dreadful  ceremony  began,  and  when  they  saw  the  garments 
torn  from  the  backs  of  the  consuls,  and  those  men  \\hom  they 
had  been  accustomed  lo  regard  with  veneration,  thus  ignominiously 
treated,  every  one  forgot  his  own  calamity,  and,  filled  with  horror, 
turned  aside  his  eyes,  that  he  mi^ht  not  b«'hold  the  mistrnble 
humiliation  of  the  rulers  of  his  country.  It  was  eveniinj  wlien 
ihe  Roman  army  was  suffered  to  pass  out  of  the  defile  ;  and  uh^u 
vol..  I.  45 


S54  UN'VKKSAL  JIISTOUY  [liOOK   111 

niglit  came  on,  naked  and  destitute  of  every  tiling,  tliey  ilirew 
themselves  down  in  despair  in  a  field  near  the  city  of  Caj)ua.  The 
magistrates,  senators,  and  chief  men  of  the  jjlace,  repaired  to  the 
spot  where  they  lay,  and  endeavored  to  comfort  and  soothe  their 
distiess  ;  hut  they  spoke  not  a  word,  nor  ever  raised  their  heads 
from  the  ground.  The  next  day  they  j>roceeded  in  the  same 
melancholy  dejection  to  Rome,  where  their  disaster  had  occasioned 
the  utmost  consternation,  and  the  whole  city  had  gone  into  mourn- 

By  the  treaty  which  the  Romans  signed  after  the  disgrace  of 
the  Furccc  Caudlncc^  they  solemnly  hound  themselves  no  more  to 
make  war  against  the  Samnites  :  but  lliey  fell  upon  a  siiameful 
device  to  elude  the  obligation.  Posthumius,  one  of  the  consuls, 
advised  that  the  Romans  should  pay  no  regard  to  the  treaty:  but 
that  he  himself,  and  all  who  were  actively  concerned  in  making 
it,  should  be  delivered  up  to  the  enemy,  who  might  wreak  their 
vengeance  on  them  as  they  chose.  This  strange  proposal  was 
agreed  to.  Posthumius,  and  the  [principal  officers  were  sent  in 
chains  to  Pontius,  the  general  of  the  Samnites,  who,  with  a  gener- 
osity w^hich  their  conduct  had  not  merited,  set  them  at  liberty, 
thoHgh  with  a  keen  reproach  of  their  shameful  disregard  of  an 
obligation  universally  held  most  sacred. 

We  enter  not  into  a  minute  detail  of  the  war  with  the  Samnites: 
it  is  to  be  found  at  large  in  Livy.  It  affords  evidence  of  one  fact 
of  importance,  that  the  Romans  had  now  adopted  the  policy  of 
ex'terminating,  when  they  were  desirous  of  securing  a  conquest. 
The  jEqui,  in  the  space  of  one  campaign,  lost  forty  towns,  the 
greater  part  of  which  the  Romans  entirely  demolished,  and  slaugh- 
tered the  whole  inhabitants. 

The  popular  dissensions  suffered  very  little  intermission  from 
these  warlike  enterprises.  The  priesthood  was  now  the  object  of 
contest,  and  the  pretence  used  by  the  patricians  for  excluding  the 
inferior  order  from  that  dignity,  was  religious  scruple  :  but  it  was 
not  easy  to  convince  the  people,  that  the  same  rank  which  was 
adequate  to  the  exercise  of  the  highest  offices  of  the  state,  would 
profane  the  priesthood  ;  and  a  law  was  proposed,  by  two  of  the 
tribunes,  and  passed,  which  enacted  that  four  new  pontifices  should 
be  created,  and  five  new  augurs,  and  that  both  orders  of  the  slate 
should  be  equally  eligible  to  those  offices.  Thus,  all  the  dignities 
of  the  commonwealth  were  now  open  alike  to  both  plebeians  and 
patricians  ;  and  from  this  time,  consequently,  the  sole  nominal 
distinction  was,  that  of  the  senate  and  people  of  Ro7ne. 

The  Tarentines  took  part  against  the  Romans  in  tlie  war  with 
the  Samnites.  This  people,  who  were  originally  a  Greek  colony 
from  Sparta,  had  acquired  considerable  wealth  by  commerce,  and 
were  of  an  indolent  and  luxurious  character,  very  opposite  to  that 
of  their  parent  state.*      Alarmed   at  the  progress  of  the  Roman 

•  iTiat;n  y,h  on 


B.    C.  272.]  PYRRHUS.  505 

arms,  aware  of  llielr  ambitious  and  domineering  spirit,  bnt  imalilo 
to  make  any  vigorous  effort  to  resist  tliem,  th'^y  sought  aid  from 
Pyrrhus,  the  king  of  Epirus,  and  invited  him,  by  a  Haltering  deputa- 
tion, to  be  the  deliverer  of  Italy  from  its  threatened  yoke  of  servi- 
tude. Pyrrhus  was  one  of  the  ahlest  generals  of  his  age;  but  he 
possessed  a  restless  s[)irit,  and  a  precipitancy  in  forming  projects 
of  military  enterprise,  without  a  due  attention  to  means,  or  a  de- 
liberate estimate  of  consequences.  Cineas,  his  chief  minister,  to 
whom  he  imparted  his  design  of  invading  Italy,  and  mentioned, 
with  great  confidence,  a  perfect  assurance  of  its  success,  calmly 
asked  him  what  he  proposed  after  that  design  was  accomplished. 
"  We  shall  next,"  said  Pyrrhus,  "  make  ourselves  masters  of 
Sicily,  which,  considering  the  distracted  state  of  that  island,  will 
be  a  very  easy  enterprise."  "And  what  next  do  you  intend.'" 
said  Cineas.  "  We  shall  then,"  replied  Pyrrhus,  "  j)ass  over  into 
Africa.  Do  you  imagine  Carthage  is  capable  oi  holding  ojit 
against  our  arms.'*"  "And  supposing  Carthage  taken,"  said 
Cineas,  "what  follows?"  "Then,"  said  Pyrrhus,  "we  return 
with  all  our  force,  and  pour  down  upon  Macedonia  and  Greece." 
"  And  when  all  is  conquered,"  replied  Cineas,  "what  is  then  to 
be  done.''"  "  Why,  then,  to  be  sure,"  said  Pyrrhus,  "  we  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  enjoy  our  bottle,  and  take  our  amusement." 
"And  what,"  said  Cineas,  "  prevents  you  from  enjoying  your 
bottle  now,  and  taking  your  amusement?"  This  dialogue,  which 
is  given  by  Plutarch,  with  great  naivete,  presents  us  with  a  just 
delineatioti  of  the  real  views  and  sentiments  of  the  greater  part  of 
those  mighty  conquerors  who  have  disturbed  the  peace  of  the 
universe. 

Pyrrhus  brought  to  the  aid  of  the  Tarentines  an  army  of 
30,000  men.  He  was  astonished  that  a  war,  in  which  thoy  were  a 
principal  party,  did  not,  in  the  least,  interrupt  the  amusements  of 
that  frivolous  and  dissolute  people.  They  gave  him  some  mns;- 
nificent  festivals,  and  then  purposed  to  leave  him  to  fight,  whila 
they  continued  their  entertainments. 

This  conduct,  justly  exciting  both  contf^mpt  and  indignation, 
Pyrrhus  ordered  the  theatres  to  be  shut  up,  closed  the  public 
»sseml)K3s,  where  the  Tarentines  idly  con'^umcd  the  time  in  frivo- 
lous talt,  and  mustering  the  citizen^;,  cnjoini'd  a  continued  and 
rigorous  exercise  to  every  man  who  was  capable  of  bearing;  arms. 
So  severely  felt  was  this'dnty,  that,  it  is  said,  a  larger  nnmber  of 
!he  inhabitants  actually  fled  from  their  country  rather  than  suffer 
Q  deprivation  of  their  usual  pleasures. 

Pyrrhus  was,  for  some  time,  successful.  The  elephants  in  his 
army  were  a  novel  sight  to  the  Romans,  and,  for  awhile,  gave  him 
a  great  advantage.  It  is  said,  however,  that  ihi<;  experienced  gen- 
eral, the  first  time  he  came  in  si'j;ht  of  the  Roman  legions,  was 
struck  with  their  appearance,  and  with  the  military  skill  di-^plavf-d 
in  their  arrangement.     "  The  disposition  of  these  barbarians."  said 


.i56  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK    III 

he,  to  one  of  liis  officers,  "  does  not  savor  at  all  of  harbarisnn.  We 
sliail  presently  see  what  they  can  perform."  And,  in  fact,  he  very 
soon  began  to  find  that  even  his  victories  cost  him  so  dear,  that 
there  was  little  room  to  hope  for  his  ever  achieving  the  conquest 
of  Itnly.  Tiie  Romans  soon  became  accustomed  to  his  mode  of 
fighting,  and  every  campaign  proved  to  him  more  and  more  un- 
successful. At  length,  wishing  for  an  honorable  pretext  for  drop- 
ping his  enterprise,  the  Sicilians  furnished  it,  by  imploring  his  aid 
against  the  Carthaginians.  Pyrrhus,  accordingly,  embarked  his 
troops  for  Sicily,  and  during  his  absence  for  two  years,  the  Romans 
reduced  the  Samnites,  Tarentines,  and  their  allies,  to  extremity. 
Pyrrhus  returned,  and  made  a  last  effort,  near  Beneventiim,  in 
the  Samnian  territory.  He  was  totally  defeated,  lost  26,000  men, 
and  taking  the  first  opportunity  of  giving  his  allies  the  slip,  he  set 
sail  for  Epirus.  The  Samnites,  the  Tarentines,  the  Lucanians, 
Bruttians,  and  all  the  other  states,  submitted  to  the  arms  of  the 
Romans;  who  were  now,  in  the  480th  year  from  the  foundation 
of  the  city,  masters  of  all  Italy.  It  is  to  be  observed,  however, 
that,  at  this  time,  Gallia  Cisalpina,  or  the  country  between  the 
Apennines  and  Alps,  w'as  not  comprehended  under  the  name  of 
Italy. 

The  policy  of  the  Romans  with  regard  to  the  nations  which 
they  conquered  is  worthy  of  some  attention.  The  tribes  into 
which  the  Roman  citizens  were  divided  were  formerly,  as  we  have 
seen,  a  local  distinction.  Matters  were  otherwise  at  this  time. 
It  had  become  a  great  exertion  of  political  judgment  to  arrange 
the  members  of  which  the  tribes  were  composed,  as  on  that 
arrangement  depended  the  issue  of  any  measures  to  be  carried  by 
popular  suffrage,  or  new  laws  to  be  enacted.  It  was  the  province 
of  the  censors  to  distribute  the  citizens  in  the  different  tribes. 
Now,  when  they  formed  new  tribes  from  the  inhabitants  of  the 
conquered  countries,  they  composed  these  tribes  chiefly  of  the 
ancient  Roman  citizens,  and  transported  to  Rome  the  principal 
men  of  the  conquered  nation,  whoin  they  ingrafted  into  the  original 
urban,  or  rustic,  tribes  of  the  commonwealth.  Thus  two  good 
purposes  were  at  once  served.  The  Roman  citizens,  who  princi- 
pally composed  the  new  tribes,  kept  the  provinces  in  order,  and 
inspired  them  with  an  affection  for  the  Roman  government;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  new  citizens,  dispersed  among  many  of  the 
ancient  tribes,  and  constantly  under  the  eye  of  Roman  magistrates, 
30uld  have  little  or  no  influence  in  the  affairs  of  the  common- 
wealth. 

*  See  liivy,  lib.  ii.  c.  23,  where  this  incident  is  most  eloquently  related. 


B.   C.  8by    ,  CARTHAGE.  S5" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Carthage,  a  Phoenician  Colony — Early  History — Government — Wars — Ear.T 

History  of  Sicily — Syracusan  Guverniiieiit — Di^nysius  the  Kld»'r — J)ii>nygiuii 
the  Younger — Uion — Tiinoleon — Agaliiocles— Character  of  the  Cartln^iuianj 
and  Romans  compared. 

As  we  are  now  arrived  at  that  period  when  Rome,  mistress  of 
Italy,  began  to  extend  her  conquests,  and  aim  at  foreign  dominion, 
It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  prepare  the  miiui  of  the  student  of  liis- 
tory,  to  follow  with  advantage  the  detail  of  the  progress  of  her 
arms,  that  he  sho  ild  have  some  acquaintance  with  the  history  of 
Carthage,  and  of  Sicily. 

Carilmge,  according  to  the  most  probable  accounts,  was  founded 
by  a  colony  of  Tyrians,  about  seventy  years  before  the  building  of 
Rome.  The  colony  had  the  same  language,  the  same  laws,  the 
same  customs,  and  exhibited  the  same  national  character  with  the 
parent  slate.  Tiie  early  Carthaginian  history  is  extremely  uncer- 
tain; but  from  the  vigorous  industry  of  that  peoj)Ie  who  were  its 
founders,  ant!  their  great  progress  in  the  arts,  we  may  suppose 
that  the  Carthnginians  made  a  rapid  advancement.  Front  the  time 
of  the  elder  Cyrus,  their  marine  was  formidable.  One  of  tli<.'  most 
ancient  naval  engagements  recorded  in  history,  is  that  in  winch  the 
Carthaginian  fleet,  in  conjunction  with  that  of  the  Etruscans,  fought 
against  the  Phocians  of  lona,  who  were  desirous  of  escaping  the 
yoke  of  the  Persian  monarch. 

The  Carthaginians  had  by  degree?  extended  their  dominion  along 
the  whole  African  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  from  the  rnnfines 
of  Egypt  on  the  east,  to  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  or  the  Strait? 
of  Gibraltar.  Their  capital,  in  the  days  of  its  splendor,  that  is, 
during  the  wars  with  the  Romans,  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
nnd  most  populous  cities  in  the  universe.  The  number  of  its  in- 
habitants is  said  to  have  amounted  to  700,000;  and  it  had  under 
its  sovereignty  about  three  hundred  towns  along  the  Mediterranean 
coast. 

We  know  nothing  of  the  nature  of  the  oarliesf  government  of 
the  Carthaginians,  that  is,  during  the  first  four  coiitiirios  from  the 
foundation  of  their  empire,  and  very  little  even  of  what  it  was  in 
the  latter  periods  preceding  its  dissolution.  Thoy  are  cekbrntfd, 
however,   by   Aristotle,*   as   possessing  one   of  the   m_o>t    perfect 


•Aristotle,   wliose  account  of  this  republic   is,  on  the   whole,  very  obscure 


358  UNIVERSAL    HlSTOllY.  [bOOK  III 

constitutions  among  the  ancient  republics.  Tliey  had,  like  the 
Romans,  two  chief  magistrates,  called  sufetes^  who  were  clioscn 
annually,  and  had  powers,  probably,  much  akin  to  those  of  the 
consuls.  They  had  likewise  an  elective  senate,  which  deliberated 
on  the  most  important  business  of  the  state  :  but  unanimity  was 
requited  to  give  effect  to  their  decrees;  for  if  there  was  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion,  the  matter  was  immediately  remitted  to  the 
assembly  of  the  people.  They  had  a  tribunal  of  one  hundred  and 
four  judges,  chosen  from  the  senate,  to  whom  the  generals  of  their 
armies  were  responsible  for  their  conduct;  and  it  was  not  unusual, 
as  we  are  told,  for  this  tribunal  to  punish  an  unsuccessful  general 
with  death.  All  the  powers  of  government  seem  to  have  resided 
in  the  sujfetes  and  senate,  if  concurring  in  opinion;  for  it  was  only 
in  case  of  difference,  as  already  said,  that  the  sentiments  of  the 
popular  assembly  were  consulted.  Aristotle  has  noted  two  circum- 
stances, as  defects  in  the  constitution  of  this  republic  :  the  one, 
that  it  was  lawful  for  the  same  individual  to  exercise  different 
offices  of  state  at  the  same  time  ;  the  other,  that  the  poor  were 
excluded  from  holding  all  offices  of  importance  in  the  common- 
wealth. But  the  former  of  these  may  be  found  expedient  and 
even  necessary  in  the  best  regulated  governments,  and  the  latter 
appears  to  be  agreeable  to  the  soundest  policy;  for  in  offices  of 
high  trust,  poverty  inight  often  prove  too  powerful  an  excitement 
to  a  deviation  from  duty. 

The  first  settlements  of  the  Carthaginians  were  entirely  in  the 
way  of  commerce.  They  traded  with  the  nations  on  the  coast 
of  Spain  for  gold,  and  maintaining  a  constant  intercourse  with 
Phoenicia,  their  parent  state,  and  with  the  other  nations  on  the 
coasts  of  the  Mediterranean,  they  became  the  commercial  agents 
between  the  eastern  and  western  parts  of  Europe.  Their  naval 
expeditions  were  not  confined  to  the  Mediterranean.  They 
passed  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar,  and  coasting  along  the  African 
shore,  formed  settlements  even  as  far  as  the  25th  degree  of  north 
latitude,  that  is,  three  degrees  south  of  the  Canary  Islands, 
anciently  called  InsuIcR  Fortunata.  Hanno,  by  order  of  the  Car- 
thaginian senate,  sailed  upon  a  voyage  of  discovery  along  the 
African  coast  to  the  southward,  and  wrote  himself  a  very  curious 
account  of  his  navigation;  an  extract  from  which,  or  rather  a  frag- 
ment of  a  Greek  translation  of  which,  is  still  remaining,  entitled 
the  Periplus  of  Hanno.  It  is  a  valuable  remnant  of  antiquity, 
written  in  the  style  of  a  plain  narrative,  without  ostentation  or  em- 
bellishment, and  very  much  resembling  the  journal  of  a  modern 
navigator.     The  facts  which  he  relates  have  nothing  of  the  mar- 


ffives  tliis  strontT  proof  of  the  pxcellence  of  the  Carthaginian  jrovernment,  that 
froin  the  oritrin  of  their  state  down  to  his  own  times,  ihe  acre  of  Alexander 
"  its  tranquillity  had  never  been  disturbed  either  by  doinestio  sedition  or  the 
tvranny  of  its  government  " — Arist.  de  Repub.  lib.  ii.  cap.  2. 


B.   C.  220.]  CAUTIIAGE.  359 

vellous,  and  agree  very  much  uiili  the  accounts  civcn  hy  ilje 
moderns  of  the  same  countries.  He  observed  iVom  Ijis  Meet,  ihai 
in  the  daytime  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  upon  the  land,  but  all 
was  sliHness  and  silence  ;  but  in  the  night  he  heard  the  sound  of 
various  musical  instruments,  and  saw  a  great  number  of  (ires  lighted 
along  the  coast :  and  we  know  that  such  is  the  appearance  of 
a  great  part  of  the  western  coast  of  Africa  at  this  day  ;  that  the 
sauages  in  the  daytime  retire  into  the  woods  to  avoid'the  Ix-at  of 
the  sun  ;  diat  they  light  great  fires  in  the  night  to  dis|ier<e  the 
beasts  of  prey  ;  and  that  tiiey  are  extremely  fond  of  u;iisic  and 
dancing. 

The  Cartliaginians  pushed  their  maritime  discoveries  likewise  to 
the  north  of  the  Straits  :  they  carried  on  a  trade  with  the  ports  of 
Gaul,  and  even  with  the  southern  coast  of  Britain,  whence  they 
drew  tin,  lead  and  copper.  They  had  a  settlement  in  ihf  islands 
called  Cassiterides,  which  are  sujiposed  to  be  the  Scilly  Islands,  or. 
the  coast  of  Cornwall. 

At  the  time  of  Hannibal  it  would  appear  that  some  degree  of 
taste  for  Greek  literature  had  prevailed  at  Carthage.  That  grcai 
man,  as  Cornelius  Nepos  informs  us,  composed  several  books  in 
the  Greek  language*  He  had  for  his  preceptor  in  that  language 
Sosilus,  a  Lacedaemonian.  A  Carthaginian,  Silcnus,  is  likewise 
mentioned  by  Cicero  as  a  writer  of  history  in  Greek.  Sallust,  in 
his  history  of  the  Jugurthine  war,  mentions  books  written  in  the 
Carthaginian  language,!  which  he  had  consulted  in  composing  his 
history  of  that  war.  Further  proof  of  Carthaginian  learning  may  be 
found  in  the  writings  of  the  elder  Pliny  ;  and  a  spefimen  of  the 
Carthaginian  language  is  preserved  in  the  Pxnulus  of  Plauius.:^ 

The  Carthaginians,  enriched  by  commerce  and  increasing  in 
population,  soon  found  their  original  territory  too  small  for  them, 
and  began  to  aim  at  extending  it  by  conquest.  They  armed  suc- 
cessively against  the  Maiuitanians,  NinnidiaiH,  and  all  the  neigh- 
boring nations  ;  but  as  the  spirit  of  war  was  averse  to  the  liabin 
of  an  industrious  and  mercantile  peo|)|(',  it  was  their  constant  prac- 
tice to  emjjloy  mercenary  troo|)s,  whifh  they  levied  not  only  from 
Africa,  but  from  Spain,  Italy,  the  Mediterranean  Islands,  from 
Gaul  and  even  Greece.  The  first  of  the  Carthaginian  wars  which 
authentic  history  records,  is  that  with  the  Greek  colonics  of  Sicily. 


*•  Atque  hie  tantus  vir.  lantisfjue  bollis  distractus,  nonniliil  (emporii  tribuit 
lilteris.  Narnque  alif|n<>t  rjiis  Iihri  8iinl  Grircn  Hennone  confi'Cti :  in  liii  »V 
Rhodios  dc  Cn.  Maniii  VolsDiiis  in  Asia  rebus  ci'sliH.  .  .  .  HiijUJt  Ix-lln  j^iil* 
multi  iiKMiioriaj  prodidcrunt :  sed  fx  his  duo,  qui  cum  co  in  ristris  HuTunl,  iiin 
ulque  vixcrunt,  qmtndiu  firttina  passa  ost,  Silcnus  rt  Sdsihis  LnriMlipnioniu* 
Atque  hoc  Sosilo  llannihal  iilcraruni  Gra?carum  usus  i-sl  docU-re.— C.  N»'po«  ir 
vit.  Harinib. 

t  Ex  libris  Punicis  qui  regis  Hiempsalis  diccbanlur,  inlerprctatuni  nobi«  ft 
Sail.  Boll.  .lug.  c.  XX. 

Plaut   Pa;n.  Act  v.  8C.  1 


860  UNIVKllSAL  IIISTORy  [nOOK   III 

They  had  certainly,  however,  long  jjefore-this  |)erio(],  made  sellle- 
menls  on  that  islaiui.  Darius,  the  son  of  Ilystaspes,  proposed  an 
alliance  with  them  against  the  Greeks,  and  they  concluded  that 
treaty  with  Xerxes,  when  he  followed  out  the  projects  of  his  father. 
They  engaged  to  attack  the  Greeks  of  Sicily,  while  he  invaded  the 
mother  country. 

The  early  periods  of  the  history  of  Sicily  are  no  less  uncertain 
than  those  of  Carthage.  This  country  was  termed  Trinacfia^ 
from  its  triangular  figin-e,  and  obtained  afterwards  the  name  of 
Sicania,  from  the  Sicani,  who  are  said  to  have  been  originally  a 
people  of  Spain.  The  Siculi,  an  Italian  tribe,  afterwards  took 
possession  of  the  greater  part  of  the  island  ;  and  from  them  it  was 
named  Sicilia.  The  Phoenicians  are  reported  to  have  sent  some 
coloni(?s  into  this  fertile  island,  before  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war. 
The  Greeks,  a  considerable  while  after  this  period,  began  to  form 
settlements  upon  the  coasts,  and  drove  the  Sicani  and  ihe  Sicilians 
into  the  interior  of  the  country.  These  Greek  colonies  brought 
with  them  the  spirit  and  manners  of  ihcir  native  land  ;  the  love  of 
independence,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences.*  A 
colony  of  the  Corinthians  founded  Syracuse,  which  became  the 
most  illustrious  of  the  Grecian  cities  of  Sicily  ;  and  from  Syracuse 
arose  afterwards  Agrigentum,  Acra.  Casmene,  Camarine,  and  sev- 
eral other  flourishing  towns. 

What  was  the  most  ancient  form  of  the  Syracusan  government, 
we  are  much  at  a  loss  to  know.  But  on  the  authority  of  ancient 
authors,  we  are  assured  that  it  was  for  a  considerable  tract  of  time 
monarchical  ;  and  might  long  have  continued  so,  had  all  its  sove- 
reigns inherited  the  eminent  virtues  and  abilities  of  Gelon,  its  first 
monarch,  who,  though  severe  in  his  manners,  was  one  of  the  best 
of  princes  ;  but  his  successors  abusing  their  power,  and  exercising 
the  most  despotic  tyranny,  at  last  drove  their  subjects  to  the  neces- 
sity of  abolishing  the  regal  government  ;  and,  as  if  the  example  had 
been  contagious,  the  whole  Greek  cities  of  Sicily  expelled  their 
tyrannic  governors,  and  entered  into  a  general  confederacy  to  secure 
their  individual  freedom  and  independence. 

Sixty  years  after  this  period,  an  obscure  man  of  the  name  of 
D'onysius,  by  great  address  and  the  most  various  abilities,  had  so 
ingratiated  himself  with  the  people  of  Syracuse,  while  in  the  capa- 
city of  one  of  their  magistrates,  that  he  gradually  usurped  the 
supreme  authority.  He  was  a  very  able  general,  and  successfully 
withstood  the  attempts  of  the  Carthaginians  to  make  themselves 
masters  of  Sicily.  By  his  army,  these  formidable  invaders,  who 
had  obtained  possession  of  a  great  part  of  the  island,  were  almo 


*  No  country,  of  so  narrow  bounds,  lias  in  ancient  times  produced  more  learned 
men  tiian  Sicily.  /Eschylus,  Diodorus  Siculiis,  Knipedocles,  Gorgias,  Euclid, 
Archimedes,  Epicharmus,  Theocritus,  were  all  Sicilians  by  birth. 


B     C.  405.]  DIO.N'YSIUS  561 

entirely  extirpated.  Dionysius  supported  his  adiniiiistr!,tioii  by 
military  force,  by  extreme  severity  and  the  most  rigid  despotism; 
yet  there  were  some  features  of  his  character  which  seemed  to 
indicate  a  more  generous  nature.  He  was  fond  of  literary  pur- 
suits, a  liberal  patron  of  learned  men,  and  even  himself  a  |}0ct. 
He  contended  for  the  prize  of  poetry  ;;iven  at  the  feast  of  Bacchus, 
and  obtained  it;  though,  if  we  credit  the  siory  told  of  the  po.-t 
Philoxenus,  this  must  have  been  a  very  partial  judgment.  Piiilo- 
xenus,  it  is  said,  being  invited  to  dine  with  Dionysius,  and  to  hear 
him  recite  some  poetical  composition,  was  the  only  one  of  the 
guests  who  took  the  liberty  of  censuring  it;  he  was  condemned  to 
the  mines;  but  being  soon  after  set  at  liberty,  and  invited  to  hear 
another  recitation,  he  held  his  peace  when  it  came  to  his  turn  to 
give  his  opinion.  "  What,"  said  Dionysius,  "have  you  nothing 
to  say  on  this  occasion.-'  "  "  Carry  me  back  to  the  mines,"  said 
Philoxenus.  Dionysius,  we  are  told,  was  not  displeased  with  the 
answer. 

The  character  of  this  prince  is,  on  the  whole,  ambiguous.  It 
is  not  improbable  that  the  hatred  which  the  Greeks  ever  atfectcd 
to  bear  to  the  name  of  tyrant,  has  made  their  historians  blacken 
the  character  of  Dionysius  more  than  he  deserved.*  We  read  of 
the  constant  terror  he  was  under  of  assassination;  of  his  never 
venturing  to  harangue  the  people  but  from  the  top  of  a  tower;  of 
the  dungeon  ]^e  contrived  for  tlie  imprisonment  of  state-criminals, 
constructed  in  the  form  of  the  cavity  of  the  ear,  which  communi- 
cating with  an  aperuire  in  his  private  apartment,  he  could  distinctly 
hear  any  word  that  the  prisoner  uttered;  of  the  horror  ho  had  of 
allowing  himself  to  be  shaved,  and  of  his  making  his  daughters 
singe  off  his  beard  with  nut-shells.  But  how  is  all  this  consistent 
with  the  certain  facts,  of  his  commanding  his  armies  in  person;  his 
overseeing  his  numerous  artisans  employed  in  the  public  work?; 
his  familiar  intercourse  with  men  of  science,  his  magnifici'iit  enter- 
tainments, and,  at  length,  his  dying  of  a  c'ehauch  at  a  public  festi- 
val? Great  allowance  must  be  (nade  for  the  j)rejudices  of  ihoso 
writers  who  have  given  us  the  character  of  Dionysius. 

After  the  death  of  Dionysius  the  elder,  the  crown  of  Syracuse 
passed,  without  opposition,  to  Dionysius  his  son,  an  idle,  weak, 
and  dissolute  prince,  whom  his  father,  to  repress  any  prematun* 
schemes  of  ambition,  had  kept  in  ))rofonnil  ignorance.  Along 
with  the  tyrannical  disposition  of  his  father,  he  had  the  same  pas- 
sion, or  at  least  the  same  affectation  of  a  taste,  for  literature.     The 


*  Dionysius  having  sent  his  brolhrr  to  th<>  Olympic  pimon  to  rontnul  in  hit 
name  for  Iho  prizf  of  pdclry,  the  (iioek.4,  who  dcti'stlfd  \u»  m.iiiip,  hissoil  tha 
recilcis  ofF  the  sliirp,  and  lore  hi^  brother's  neli  paviUon  to  piere*.  Lvaija,  Ihe 
orator,  ma  le  a  speech  on  llie  orcasi«in,  in  wiiirh  he  iindertixik  Ui  prove  lh«l  it 
was  an  alTroMt  to  all  Greece,  and  nn  insult  on  tlieir  !«ncrpd  uoleinnitien.  lo  allow 
the  coini)ositioii3  of  a  wicked  tyrant  to  l>e  publicly  reiicani«d.. — I'lularcli  Mor 

VOL.    I.  '1'3 


362  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [rOOK   III 

philosopher  Plato  had  heen  invited  lo  Syrar-use,  by  Dionysius  ilie 
elder,  and  had  contracted  an  intimate  Irieiidsliip  with  Dion,  the 
brother-in-law  of  Dionysius,  of  whom,  in  one  of  his  epistles,  he 
gives  this  high  character,  that  he  had  never  met  with  a  young  man 
on  whom  his  philosophical  principles  had  made  so  great  an  im- 
pression. But  their  effect  on  Dionysius  himself  was  not  so  favor- 
able; for,  being  ofiended  with  the  freqflom  which  the  philosopher 
used  in  censuring  whatever  he  disapproved  in  the  maxims  and 
government  of  the  tyrant,  the  latter  ordered  him  to  be  sold  as  a 
slave  in  the  jHjblic  market.  His  disciples  paid  the  price  of  five 
minae  for  their  master,  and  sent  him  safe  back  to  Greece.  Dion. 
from  an  earnest  desire  of  reforming  the  morals  of  his  kinsman,  the 
younger  Dionysius,  persuaded  him  to  invite  the  philosopher  once 
more  to  return  to  Sicily.  Plato  came,  and  virtue  and  learning 
seemed  for  awhile  to  reign  at  Syracuse  :  but  their  dominion  was 
of  short  duration;  for  the  corrupted  courtiers  of  Dionysius  prevailed 
on  him  to  banish  Dion,  and  Plato  followed  his  favorite  disciple. 

The  exile  of  Dion  was  aggravated  by  circumstances  of  the  most 
flagrant  injustice  and  oppression  :  his  property  was  confiscated,  and 
Areta,  his  wife,  the  sister  of  Dionysius,  was,  by  that  tyrant,  com- 
pelled to  enter  into  another  marriage  with  a  sycophant  of  his 
court.  The  more  respectable  part  of  the  Syracusans  were  indig- 
nant at  these  outrages,  which  reflected  dishonor  on  the  state,  and 
sought  earnestly  to  rid  themselves  from  their  yoke.  They'  held  a 
secret  correspondence  with  Dion,  whom  they  prevailed  on  to  aid 
them  in  their  design  of  effecting  a  revolution.  With  the  aid  of 
foreign  troops  whom  he  levied  in  Grece,  and  supported  by  all  the 
Syracusans  who  favored  the  cause  of  liberty,  Dion  compelled  the 
tyrant  to  evacuate  Syracuse,  and  seek  refuge  in  Italy.  But  the 
austere  manners  of  the  virtuous  Dion  were  not  suited  to  a  licentious 
and  corrupted  people.  He  lost  the  affections  of  his  subjects;  they 
forgot  his  services,  and  deposed  and  banished  him  :  he  was  recalled, 
indeed,  soon  after,  but  to  meet  with  a  worse  fate  :  for  while  he 
sought  to  appease  the  seditions  excited  by  the  partisans  of  Diony- 
sius, he  was  assassinated  by  an  infamous  Athenian,  on  whom  he 
had  bestowed  his  chief  confidence. 

Aided  by  the  distractions  of  Syracuse,  consequent  on  the  death 
of  Dion,  Dionysius  regained  the  throne,  ten  years  after  his  ex- 
pulsion :  but  his  tyrannical  disposition  inflamed,  not  mitigated  by 
his  misfortunes,  soon  became  so  intolerable,  that  he  was  expelled 
a  second  time,  and  banished  to  Corinth;  he  there  ended  his  days 
in  poverty  and  obscurity.  It  is  said,  that  the  tyranny  of  his  nature 
found  a  congenial  gratification  in  exercising  the  employment  of  a 
schoolmaster. 

This  last  revolution  had  been  efi'ected  by  tne  aid  of  Timoleon, 
a  noble  Corinthian,  whom  his  countrymen  deputed  to  restore  the 
liberties  of  their  ancient  colony.  Tin)oleon  had  distinguisiied 
himself  by  an  ardent  passion  for  republican  freedom,  whicl"    had 


B.  C.     345.]  TIMOLEOX.  3C3 

even  hurried  liim  into  the  commissior)  of  a  shocking  crime.  Ena- 
ble to  dissuade  his  brother,  Tiniophanes,  from  a  design  of  usurping 
the  sovereignty  of  his  native  state,  he  caused  two  of  liis  friends  lo 
assassinate  him,  in  iiis  own  presence.  This  deed,  though  ajiplaud- 
ed  by  his  fellow  citizens,  was  attended  by  sucii  severe  remorse^ 
that  he  threw  up  all  public  employment,  and  wandered  in  melan- 
choly dejection  for  a  period  of  twenty  years.  He  was  now,  how- 
ever, summoned  to  take  the  command  of  the  expedition  lo  Sicily, 
and  his  favorite  passion  prompted  him  to  obey  the  summons. 

The  Carthaginians  having  some  settlements  in  Sicily,  had  long 
earnestly  looked  to  the  acquisition  of  the  whole  island,  and  at  this 
time,  under  the  pretext  of  aiding  the  Syracusans  in  the  design  of 
dethroning  their  tyrant,  had  landed  a  large  force,  and  seized  and 
garrisoned  several  of  the  Sicilian  towns.  Dionysius,  reduced  to 
extremity  between  the  Carthaginian  army  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  troops  of  Timoleon  on  the  other,  chose  to  enter  into  a  capit- 
ulation with  the  latter,  and  agreed  to  abandon  his  throne,  and  pur- 
chase his  life  by  a  voluntary  banishment  into  Greece.  Timoleon 
sent  him  in  a  single  galley  to  Corinth.  Having  delivered  Syra- 
cuse from  her  tyrant,  he  now  turned  his  arms  against  the  Cartha- 
ginians, whom  he  defeated  in  several  battles,  and  compelled  to 
yield  uj)  all  their  new  acquisitions,  con6ning  themselves  within  the 
limits  of  their  ancient  possessions. 

Having  thus  honorably  fulfilled  the  original  object  of  his  mission, 
in  givin.:;  peace  and  liberty  to  the  Syracusans,  Timoleon  found  his 
aid  and  alliance  eagerly  courted  by  the  other  rei)ublics  of  Sicily, 
who  desired  to  follow  the  example  of  Syracuse  in  expelling  their 
domestic  tyrants,  and  establishing  a  free  constitution.  This  pur- 
pose successfully  accompli Jied,  Timoleon  now  applied  himself  lo 
the  means  of  repairing  the  wasted  population  of  the  Syracusaii 
territory,  by  recalling  all  those  citizens  whom  the  tyranny  of  ihe 
late  government  had  compelled  to  abandon  their  country,  and  by 
prompting  new  settlers  to  resort  thither  by  every  encouragcmenl 
which  good  policy  could  suggest.  This  truly  great  man  no  sooner 
brought  about  a  regular  and  stable  administration  of  government, 
than  he  gave  an  illustrious  proof  how  disinterested  had  been  the 
motives  of  his  conduct,  by  resigning  all  power,  and  returning  to 
the  condition  of  a  private  citizen.  As  such  he  passed  the  remaiii- 
der  of  his  days,  highly  honored  and  beloved  by  that  people  who 
owed  to  his  virtues  their  liberty  and  their  happiness. 

It  is  not  difHcult  to  account  for  those  revolutions  lo  whicn  we 
nave  observed  the  state  of  Syracuse  so  much  exposed.  This 
city  had  acquired  great  wealth  by  commerce.  The  overgrown 
fortunes  of  individuals  put  it  in  their  power  not  only  to  stir  up  fac- 
tions and  cabals,  but  even  to  raise  armies.  The  state  likewise 
was  accustomed  to  employ  only  foreign  troops,  and  thus  arn)n!ed  a 
•empting  op|)ortunity  to  strangers  to  aim  at  attaining  power  and 
VP'fluence  in  the  republic.      Had  there    been   in    Sicily  any  (illier 


36  i  UNIVKUSAI.    IIISTOJIV.  [lIOOK    Ml. 

State  so  fonnidiiljle  as  t©  balance  the  power  of  Syracuse,  we  slioiild 
then  have  seen  in  that  country  nearly  the  same  scenes  that  we 
have  observed  in  Greece.  We  should  have  seen  the  inferior  states 
pass  from  the  alliance  of  the  one  to  that  of  the  other;  associations 
constantly  foi  incd  to  maintain  a  balance  of  power,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  cordial  union  of  the  whole  against  a  foreign  enemy.  But 
as  the  ))o\ver  of  Syracuse  was  not  kept  down  by  any  formidable 
ri\'al  in  Sicily,  this  circumstance  obliged  the  inferior  stales  who 
wished  to  avoid  her  yoke  to  seek  aid  fiom  abroad,  and  thus  Sicily 
was  laid  open  to  the  Carthaginians  and  to  the  Greeks*. 

The  Syracusans  did  not  long  enjoy  the  liberty  and  peace  to 
which  they  had  been  restored  by  Timoleon.  Agathocles,  a  man 
who  had  risen  from  a  low  condition  to  the  first  miliiaiy  honors, 
and  tlie  connnand  of  their  fleets  and  armies,  took  advantage  of  that 
power  to  render  himself  master  of  the  city.  Besieged  by  the 
Cartliaginians  in  Syracuse,  he  carried  the  war  into  Africa,  ravaged 
the  country  to  the  gates  of  Carthage,  and  defeated  their  army  in 
a  signal  engagement,  which  had  very  near  proved  fatal  to  their 
empire.  He  suflered,  however,  a  signal  reverse  of  fortune.  Du- 
ring his  absence  in  Africa,  the  Sicilian  states,  oppressed  by  Syracuse, 
formed  a  league  in  defence  of  their  liberties.  Agadiocles  having 
reimbarked  a  part  of  his  troops,  with  the  design  of  chastising  this 
revolt,  the  Carthaginians  in  the  meantime  reduced  the  remainder 
of  the  Syracusan  army  to  such  extremity,  that  even  the  return  of 
llieir  leader  was  insufficient  to  retrieve  their  losses.  Regarding 
their  situation  as  desperate,  Agathocles,  with  the  meanest  treach- 
ery, abandoned  his  army  in  the  night,  and  escaped  back  to  Sicily 
in  a  single  vessel,  leaving  his  two  sons  to  the  mercy  of  the  Car- 
thaginians, who  put  them  both  to  di  ath.  His  vengeance  now 
found  an  object  in  reducing  the  Sicilian  states,  whose  revolt  had 
been  the  immediate  cause  of  his  disasters;  but  while  actively  en- 
gaged in  this  purpose,  his  life  was  shortened  by  poison. 

The  Carthaginians,  still  intent  on  the  acquisition  of  Sicily,  now 
nvested  Syracuse  with  an  immense  fleet  and  an  army  of  50,000 
men.  Unable  efTectually  with  their  own  power  to  resist  this 
overwhelming  force,  the  Syracusans  solicited  aid  from  Pyrrhus, 
king  of  Epirus,  who,  as  we  have  before  seen,  had  at  this  time 
abandoned  all  hope  of  achieving  the  conquest  of  Italy.  He  seized 
this  occasion  as  an  honorable  pretext  for  withdrawin;^  his  troops 
from  that  country.  The  Syracusans  received  him  wi'.h  open 
arms,  and  put  him  in  possession  of  their  city,  their  fleet,  and  the 
public  treasure.  Pyrrhus,  with  this  combination  of  force,  was 
for  some  time  eminently  successful;  but  on  a  change,  as  we  have 
before  related,  this  prince  thought  it  his  wisest  course  to  drop  his 
schemes  of  ambition,  and  return  to  Epirus.  On  quitting  Sicily, 
he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  What  a  beautiful  field  of  battle  do 
we  leave  for  the  Romans  and  Carthaginians!  "  His  prediction  was 
speedily  fulfilled,  for  immediately  after  began  the  first  Punic  war. 


B.  C.261.]  no.Mi..vs  AM)  c\R'rmGiMANs.  .'5G5 

The  character  of  the  Carthaginians,  and  that  of  tiie  Romans, 
whom  we  shall  now  see  engager!  in  war  for  a  long  scries  of  years, 
'brmed  a  very  remarkahle  contrast  to  each  oiherT  As  this  difler- 
ence  of  character  may,  perhaps,  be  accounted  for  on  one  single 
principle,  I  shall  endeavor  very  shortly  to  unfold  that  principle, 
n  a  few  observations  on  the  effects  of  a  commercial  life  iij)on  the 
enius,  manners,  and  laws  of  a  nation. 

One  most  natiual  effect  of  the  commercial  spirit  is  a  selfish  and 
interested  turn  of  mind;  a  habit  of  measuring  every  thing  by  the 
standard  of  profit  and  loss,  and  a  predominant  idea  that  wcafih  is 
the  main  constituent  hoth  of  public  and  private  happiness.  Tlio 
contrast  of  character,  in  lliis  respect,  between  the  Romans  and 
Carthaginians,  has  been  finely  remarked  by  Polybius.  "  In  all 
things,"  says  that  judicious  writer,  "which  regard  the  acquisiiion 
of  wealth,  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Romans  are  infiniiciv 
preferable  to  those  of  the  Carthaginians.  This  latter  people  cs 
teemed  nothing  to  be  dishonorable  that  was  connected  with  gain. 
Among  them,  money  is  openly  employed  to  purchase  the  dieni- 
ties  and  offices  of  the  state  ;  but  all  such  |)roceedings  are  capital 
crimes  at  Rome."  I  am  afraid  that  a  contrast,  so  honorable  to 
the  Romans,  could  only  have  been  made  with  justice  in  the  early 
periods  of  the  republic  ;  since  we  know  that  without  an  increase 
of  commerce,  to  which  might  be  attributed  the  consequent  increase 
of  corruption  and  venality,  those  vices  had  attained  to  as  great  a 
height  towaids  the  end  of  the  republic  at  Rome,  as  ever  they  had 
done  at  Carthage.  But  wealth  acquired  by  plunder,  rapine,  and 
peculation,  is  yet  more  corruptive  of  the  manners  of  a  people, 
than  riches  acquired  by  merchandise. 

Another  effect  of  the  prevalence  of  the  commercial  spirit,  is  to 
depress  the  military  character  of  a  people,  and  to  render  thenj 
indisposed  to  warlike  enterprises.  The  advancement  of  trade 
cannot  take  place  in  any  high  degree,  unless  a  nation  is  at  peace 
with  its  neighbors,  and  enjoys  domestic  security.  The  prospect 
of  that  precarious  gain  which  arises  from  warfare,  will  not  weigh 
agamst  the  certain  advantages  which  comuKTce  derives  from  a 
state  of  peace  The  art  of  war  will  not,  therefore,  flourish  as  a 
profession  among  a  commercial  people,  and  the  praciiee  of  it  will 
generally  be  intrusted  to  mercenary  troops.  Military  rank  will  be 
in  low  esteem,  because,  when  purchased,  it  ceases  in  a  great  de- 
gree to  be  honorable.  Thus  the  Carthaginians,  though  certainly 
not  inferior  by  nature  to  the  Romans  in  coiirage  and  miliiary 
prowess,  were  become  so  from  habit  and  education.  The  armies 
of  the  empire  were  not  composed  of  its  native  subjects  ;  they 
were  mercenaries,  and,  therefore,  had  no  tiaitnal  afleetion  for  that 
soil  wliich  they  were  called  to  defend,  or  that  jieople  who  were 
nothing  more  than  their  |)nymasters.  Hence  the  signal  inferioriiy 
of  their  armies  to  the  Romans,  unless  when  commanded  l>y  Carilia- 
ginian  generals  of  high,  natural,  military  genius,  who  could  bring 


366  UNIVERSAL    UlSTOIiy.  [riOOK   III. 

their  force  iiilo  aclion  as  a  great  inacliiiie  illrcclud  by  one  simple 
power. 

Public  sjjirit  and  a  high  tone  of  iiaiional  virtue  are  rarely  to  be 
found  in  slates  whose  principal  object  is  coninierce.  Patriotism 
cannot  flourish,  where  the  spirit  of  gain  predominates.  Each  in- 
dividual, feeling  interest  separate  from,  and  often  incompatibia 
with  that  of  the  state,  it  is  not  surprising  that  what  regards  only 
the  good  of  the  community  should  have  but  small  influence  ;  and 
even  that  pr'vate  advantage,  and  the  enrichment  of  individuals; 
shouK  be  the  mainspring  of  public  measures. 

Bu'.  til  3,  It  may  be  said,  is  the  dark  side  of  the  picture.  Let 
us,  therefore,  attend  to  those  beneficial  consequences,  which  may 
naturally  be  attributed  to  the  prevalence  of  the  commercial  spirit 
in  a  nation. 

And  of  these,  what  immediately  strikes  us,  as  the  most  obvious, 
is  the  general  difTusion  of  industry.  Among  a  commercial  people, 
the  faculties  both  of  mind  and  body  are  of  necessity  almost  con- 
tinually em[)loyed.  Invention  is  ever  on  the  stretch  to  discover 
new  sources  of  gain  ;  and  the  enterprising  spirit  of  the  more 
opulent  furnishes  constant  occupation  to  the  machanic,  the  manu- 
facturer, and  the  laborer. 

Inseparably  connected  with  the  general  diffusion  of  industry,  is 
a  spirit  of  frugality.  Riches  have  their  full  value  when  purchased 
by  the  labor  either  of  the  mind  or  body,  and  what  costs  dear  will 
not  be  frivolously  expended.  Justin  has  remarked  the  parsimony 
as  well  as  the  industry  of  the  Tyrians.  Strabo  and  Cicero  give 
the  same  ciiaracter  of  the  people  of  Marseilles,  and  Diodorus 
Siculus  of  the  Carthaginians.  In  modern  times  we  observe  the 
association  of  the  same  qualities  among  the  Dutch  and  the  Chi- 
nese. 

Another  necessary  consequence  of  the  prevalence  of  commerce, 
13  a  regularity  and  strictness  of  the  national  police,  a  severity  of 
*.he  laws  with  respect  to  mutual  contracts  and  obligations,  and  a 
consequent  security  in  the  transactions  of  individuals  with  each 
other.*  I  know  not  whether  a  certain  degree  of  refinement  in 
manners,  at  least  to  the  length  of  general  courtesy  and  afiability 
both  to  those  of  the  same  nation  and  to  foreigners,  be  not  a  conse- 
quence of  the  spirit  of  trade  ;  a  refinement  of  manners,  however, 
very  different  from  that  of  a  luxurious  people,  where  the  laws  of 
behavior  arise  chiefly  from  motives  of  ease  and  pleasure,  or  are 
dictated  by  gallantry  or  a  high  point  of  honor. 

Science  is  likewise  in  many  respects  greatly  indebted  to  com- 
merce.      Thus    astronomy,  navigation,  general  maihematics,  me- 


*  AVhen  tlie  Roman  writers  inveigh  against  the  Piniica  Jidcs.  the  censure 
applies  to  their  character  in  war;  and  even  in  that  respect  it  may  well  be  ques- 
tioned whether  the  Roman  character  stood  in  any  higlier  degree  of  estimation. 


B.    C.    264.]  FIRST    PCMC    WAR.  3G7 

chanics,  and  indeed  all  sciences  subservienl  lo  practical  ctiiiiy, 
are  greaily  advanced  by  it,  and  deri\ e  a  vast  eniourai^enieiii  from 
the  demands  which  it  occasions  for  the  productions  of  ilie  useful 
arts.  With  regard  to  literature  there  is  greater  doubt.  The 
iabor  of  the  head  in  those  productions  which  tend  only  to  aniuse- 
nent,  or  at  least  a  refinement  of  the  intellectual  powers,  wiihoui 
ny  obvious  consequence  as  to  the  practical  business  of  worldly 
jfe,  will  not,  it  is  probable,  meet  with  much  encouragement  among 
a  people  whose  views  extend  no  farther  than  die  substantial  acqui- 
sitions of  wealth  and  properly. 

Such  are  the  principal  ellects  of  the  spirit  of  commerce  on  the 
character  and  manners  of  a  nation;  and  such  accordingly  we  find 
to  consiitute  the  principal  features  of  the  Carthaginian  character 
opposed  to  the  Roman. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


First  Punic  War — First  Naval  Victory  of  the  Romans — Invasion  of  Africa-  • 
Rcgulus — Tcrminatinn  of  tlie  War — Skco.m)  Pumc  War — Hannibal  pas<i«>f 
the  Alps — His  victories  in  Italy — Uatilc  of  Cannip — Hannibal  wintrrs  in 
(^apua — Siege  of  Syracuse — dt-fended  by  Archimedes — Rattle  of  Ziina — and 
end  of  Second  Punic  War — Defeat  of  Philip  H.  of  Maeedon — of  .Antniohti*, 
king  of  Syria — Cato  the  Censor — Accusation  of  Scipio  Africanu!< — Hid  char- 
acter—  Scipio  Asiaticus — War  with  Perseus  and  reduction  of  Macedonia — 
TiintD   PuMC  War,  anu  dkstiiuction  ok  (?ARriiAGE. 

It  has  been  justly  remarked  that  the  Romans,  all  hough  an  ambi- 
tious people,  did  not  begin  to  form  plans  of  extensive  concpiest, 
till  they  had  suflicient  strength  to  undertake  thfin  with  a(lvantae,e 
The  triun)ph  which  their  arms  had  obtained  over  IVrrhus,  the 
most  able  and  the  most  experienced  general  of  his  lime,  seen>od 
to  give  them  an  assurance  of  success  in  auy  military  enterprise  in 
which  they  should  engage. 

The  First  Punic  war  took  its  rise  froii^the  following  cause.  The 
Mamertines,  a  |)eople  of  Campania,  had  taken  possession  of  Mes- 
sina, one  of  the  Sicilian  towns  allied  to  Syracuse.  Iliero,  king  of 
Syracuse,  had  marched  against  these  invaders,  who,  conscious  tha 
they  were  unable  to  withstand  so  povverlul  an  antagonist,  api»li<'<| 
for  aid,  first  to  the  Carihaginians,  and  afterwards,  from  rational 
fear  of  being  enslaved  by  this  power,  to  the  Romans.  Although 
this  was  a  very  unjustifiable  quarrel,  the  Romans  made  no  scruple 


368  UNIVEUSAI,    IIISTOUY.  [liOOK   III. 

10  ^akc  a  pail;  n.»u  liicy  sent  a  large  army,  uliicli  engaged  ana 
clcfeaied  tne  uiincii  loitcs  of  llie  Syratusans  and  Cariliaginians. 
The  king  of  Syracuse  having  now  experienced  to  liis  cost  the 
power  ol  tlie  Roman  anns,  was  glad  to  court  their  alliance;  flat- 
tering hiniself,  by  this  uicans,  with  the  |)rospect  of  absolutely  ex- 
j)elling  from  Sicily  the  Carthaginians,  who  had  long  enter;i;(ined 
the  design  of  annexing  »uis  island  to  their  empire,  and  had  made 
considerable  progress  in  mat  design. 

By  the  joint  forces  o(  tiiC  Romans  and  Syracusans,  Agrigenliun, 
one  of  the  principal  citieji  then  possessed  by  the  Carthaginians, 
was  taken,  after  a  long  sie/,;-e.  The  Romans,  encouraged  by  this 
success,  and  conscious  of  the  great  advantage  which  the  enemy 
derived  from  their  marine,  oegan  to  think  of  equipping  a  fleet  to 
cope  with  them  at  sea,  as  well  as  on  land.  A  Carthaginian  galley, 
stranded  on  the  coast  of  ^taly,  is  said  to  have  served  them  as  a 
model;  and,  by  a  wouderlul  effort  of  industry,  they  equipped  in 
a  few  weeks  a  hundred  simtlar  to  it,  with  five  banks  of  oars — and 
twenty  of  a  smaller  size  with  three  banks.  The  Consul  Dicilius 
made  an  improvement  on  these  ships  of  war,  by  the  invention  of  a 
machine  called  Connis, — a  sort  of  crane,  which,  falling  down  and 
fastening  upon  the  ships  of  the  enemy,  brought  them  to  a  close  en- 
gagement, and  served  at  the  same  time  as  a  bridge  or  gangway  for 
boardins;  them.  All  new  inventions  are  usuallv  successful  at  first, 
from  the  surprise  which  they  occasion.  The  Roman  fleet  gained  a 
most  complete  victory  over  that  of  the  Carthaginians.  A  vast 
number  of  their  ships  were  destroyed,  above  7,000  men  killed,  and 
an  equal  number  made  prisoners.* 

For  a  few  years  the  success  of  the  Romans  was  uninterrupted. 
They  took  from  the  Carthaginians  the  islands  of  Corsica  and  Sar- 
dinia; and  in  the  naval  engagement  at  Ecnomus,  having  captured 
sixty  of  the  enemy's  ships,  they  now  thought  themselves  in  a  situ- 
ation to  attempt  the  invasion  of  Africa. 

The  consul  Attilius  Regulus  had  the  command  of  that  expedi- 
tion. The  history  of  this  illustrious  man,  particularly  the  latter  part 
of  it,  is,  by  some  modern  writers,  suspected  of  being  fabulous;  and 
indeed  they  have  advanced  some  very  plausible  arguments  against 
the  belief  of  its  authenticity:  yet  it  is  found  in  the  best  of  the  Ro- 
man writers,  and  is  in  itself  so  beautiful,  that  we  cannot  hastily 
resolve  to  refuse  it  credit.  Regulus,  after  several  successful  en- 
gagements in  Africa,  had  advanced  even  to  the  gates  of  Carthage; 
and  such  was  the  general  consternaiion,  that  the  city  proposed  to 
capitulate.     It  had  been  glorious  for  Regulus  thus  to  have  termin- 


*  This  naval  engagement  was  fought  on  the  coast  of  Sicily,  near  Mylcp,  now 
Milazzo.  A  monument  of  the  victory  was  erected  at  Rome,  which  subsists  to 
this  day — the  columiia  rostrata,  dug  up  about  200  years  ago,  and  now  standing 
in  Uie  Capitol. 


B.  C.  255.]  REGULUS.  369 

ated  the  war  by  an  advantageous  and  honorable  peace  ,  but, 
blinded  by  success,  the  terms  he  insisted  on  were  so  severe,  thai, 
even  situated  as  they  were,  the  Carthaginians  rejected  them  In 
the  meantime,  a  large  body  of  Greek  troops  arrived  to  their  assist- 
ance. This  changed  the  fortune  of  the  war  ;  the  Carthaginians 
assumed  new  courage,  and  with  an  army  largely  rcinf<'>rced,  attack- 
ing the  Romans,  they  gained  an  important  victory,  and  made  Reg- 
ulus  their  prisoner. 

The  Romans,  undismayed  by  this  great  misfortune,  prosecuted 
the  war  with  fresh  vigor.  Metellus,  in  Sicily,  was  carrying  every 
thing  before  him.  He  defeated  Asdrubal,  th?  ('arthai;inian  general 
in  a  signal  engagement  near  Panormus  ;  and  Carthage,  dis|)iriied 
by  her  losses,  began  seriously  to  wish  for  pcac.  Anjbassadors 
for  that  purpose  were  despatched  to  Rome  ;  and  Regulus  was  sent 
along  with  them,  as  it  was  not  doubted  that  the  negotiation,  seconded 
by  the  endeavors  of  this  general,  whom  his  country  most  deservedly 
respected,  would  be  easily  terminated.  They  exacted  at  the  same 
lime  from  him  an  oath — that  he  would  return  to  Carthage,  in  case 
there  should  neither  be  peace  nor  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  To 
the  surprise  of  all,  this  great  and  generous  man  used  his  utmost 
endeavors  to  dissuade  his  countrymen  from  agreeing  to  a  peace  ;  a 
proposition  which  he  represented  as  proceeding  solely  from  the 
weakness  of  the  enemy,  whom,  by  continuing  the  war,  they  would 
compel  to  any  submission.  But  still  further,  he  even  dissuaded  his 
countrymen  from  consenting  to  an  exchange  of  prisoners  ;  a  mea- 
sure which  he  endeavored  to  convince  them  must  be  to  their  disad- 
vantage, from  this  circumstance,  that  tiiey  had  in  their  liands  many 
of  the  best  officers  of  the  enemy,  whom  ihey  would  be  obliged  to 
exchange  against  private  men.  Ilis  arguments  prevailed,  and  the 
negotiation  was  broken  off. 

Of  the  conduct  of  Regulus,  and  of  the  nature  of  the  obligation 
which  bound  him,  there  have  been  various  opinions,  both  among 
the  ancients  and  moderns.  Cicero  argues  the  matter  at  great 
length  in  the  third  book  of  his  Offices.*  lie  applauds  tlie  con- 
duct of  Regulus,  not  only  in  the  strict  observance  of  his  oath,  but 
in  his  dissuasive  against  the  exchange  of  prisoners.  On  the  oilier 
band.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  in  his  excellent  History  of  the  World, 
has  distinguished  between  these  two  actions.  He  applauds  the 
conduct  of  Regulus  in  strictly  maintaining  the  obligation  of  his 
oath,  and  in  opposing  the  treaty  of  peace  with  the  enemy  ;  but 
his  dissuading  his  countrymen  from  agreeing  to  an  exchange  of 
prisoners,  he  censures  as  a  piece  of  ostentatious  stoicism,  and 
even  inhuniuniiy,  which  no  good  reasor  of  slate  could  ju'>tify. 
And  this  we  must  think  a  sound  opinion.  The  latter  |)art  of  the 
conduct  of  this  illustrious  man  must  on  all  hands  meet  widi  ad- 


"  Cic  de  Offic.  1.  iii.  c.  xxri.  et  s^q. 
VOL.  I.  47 


370  UNivKusAL  iiisToiiy.  [noon  Ul 

miration.  -The  Ponlifex  Maxinuis,  on  being  consnllod  en  tlip. 
validity  of  the  oatli  lie  had  sworn  to  return  to  Carthage,  gave 
it  as  his  ojjinioii  that,  it  having  been  extorted  by  the  necessity  ol 
his  situation,  he  was  under  no  obligation  to  observe  it.  But  the 
noble  soul  of  Regulus  could  not  admit  of  such  evasion.  Disre- 
garding the  entreaties  of  his  friends,  the  tears  of  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, tiie  urgent  remonstrance  of  the  senate  and  of  the  whole 
Roman  jieople,  this  generous  and  heroic  man  resolved  that  the 
terror  of  consequences,  how  dreadful  soever,  should  not  persuade 
•lim  to  a  violation  of  his  honor.*  "I  am  not  ignorant,''  said  he, 
"  that  death  and  the  severest  tortures  are  preparing  for  me  ;  but 
what  are  these  to  the  stain  of  an  infamous  action,  the  reproach  of 
n  guilty  mind  ?  I  have  sworn  to  return  to  Carthage  ;  it  is  there- 
fore my  duty  to  go.  Let  the  gods  direct  the  consequence  as  to 
their  wisdom  shall  seem  best."  To  Carthage  accordingly  he 
retin'ned,  where,  as  he  had  foreseen,  he  suffered  a  cruel  and  igno- 
minious death,  f 

The  war  in  the  meantime  continued.  Lilyboeum,  one  of  the 
strongest  places  belonging  to  the  Carthaginians  in  Sicily,  after  a 
siege  of  many  years,  by  the  Romans,  with  the  aid  of  the  Syracu- 
sans,  and  the  most  signal  efforts  on  both  sides  of  courage,  skill, 
and  perseverance,  was  taken,  in  the  tenth  year,  by  blockade.  Af- 
ter some  alternate  successes  at  sea,  the  Romans  were  victorious 
in  two  naval  engagements  ;    in  the  last  of  which,  the  Consul  Lu- 

*  This  scene  is  beautifully  described  by  Horace,  Od.  iii.  5,  49. 

t  Most  of  the  ancient  writers  concur  in  the  assertion  that  Recrnhis  was  put  to 
death  in  a  very  barbarous  manner  hy'tiie  Cartiiaginians.  Tiie  authors  of  tlie  .An- 
cient Universal  History  rehite  as  the  most  common  opinion,  that  he  was  first 
exposed  to  a  burninrr  sun,  with  his  eyehds  cut  off,  and  afterwards  shut  up  in  a 
r;asl<,  stuck  around  witii  sharp  nails,  in  which  he  was  suffered  to  die  of  hunger 
and  want  of  sleep. — Anc.  Un.  Hist.,  vol.  xii.  p.  1!)1.  It  must,  however,  be  owned, 
that  great  doul)t  hanors  over  all  the  accounts  that  are  given  of  the  inhuman  treat- 
ment of  Reguhis.  Polybins,  who  is  extremely  minute  in  every  thing  relative  to 
the  Iiistory  of  this  ilhistrious  man,  is  entirely  silent  as  to  liis  fate;  which,  had  it 
been  such  as  is  commonly  related,  he  could  never  iiave  omitted  to  mention.  He 
assures  us,  in  tiie  first  book  of  his  History,  that  lie  lias  been  most  particular  in  his 
account  of  Regulus,  that  others  may  derive  improvement  from  his  example  in 
not  trusting  too  much  to  a  course  of  prosperous  fortune.  As,  tiierefore,  the 
calamitous  death  of  Regulus  was  the  stroncrest  exemplification  of  this  moral  les- 
non,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  he  would  have  studiously  avoided  the  mention 
of  the  above  particulars,  if  they  had  been  true. 

But  there  is  in  reality  a  positive  testimony  against  the  truth  of  three  atrocious 
circumstances  above  related.  Amonir  various  fragments  of  ancient  authors,  col- 
lected bv  the  Emperor  Constantine  Porphj-rogenifus,  is  a  passage  from  Diodorus 
Sicuhu',  in  whicli  it  is  asserted  that  the  death  of  Regulus  was  owing  to  neglect ; 
nrobably  llie  carelessness  of  his  keepers  in  omitting  to  sujjpU'  him  with  food. 
The  author  adds,  that  the  widow  of  Regulus  instigated  her  sons,  in  revenge  of 
their  father's  death,  to  wreak  their  resentment  against  two  of  the  Cartliagmian 
prisoners  who  had  fallen  into  their  hands,  one  of  whom  they  actually  starved  to 
death.  The  other  was  fortunate  enough  to  convey  intelligence  to  the  Roman 
magistrate  of  his  comrade's  death  and  his  own  intended  fate,  in  consequence  of 
which  the  Attilii  very  narrowly  escaped  a  capital  punishment.  See  Toland'a 
Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  4'i,  where  there  is  a  trans'ation  of  the  fragment  of  Diodonu* 
and  a  proof  of  its  authenticity 


B.   C.  219.]  END  OF  THE  FIRST  PUNIC   WAR.  "371 

latius  defeated  Hamilcar  Barcas,  the  father  of  the  great  Hannibal, 
and  compelled  the  Carthaginians  to  sue  for  peace,  uliich  was  not 
granted  them  but  on  the  hardest  conthiions.  Tliese  were,  that 
they  should  abandon  all  their  possessions  in  Sicily:  tiiat,  in  the 
space  of  twenty  years,  they  should  pay  to  the  Romans  2,200 
talents  of  silver — about  325,480/  sterling;  that  they  should  restore, 
without  ransom,  all  their  prisoners;  and  lastly,  that  they  should 
not  make  war  against  Micro,  the  king  of  Syracuse,  or  any  of  his 
allies.  The  Roman  people  refused  to  ratify  this  treaty,  unless 
on  the  further  conditions,  that  they  should  have  an  additional 
thousand  talents  for  the  expenses  of  the  war;  that  the  whole  sum 
should  be  paid  in  ten  years  instead  of  twenty;  and  that  the  Car- 
thaginians should  yield  up  all  the  small  islands  which  they  possessed 
upon  the  coast  of  Italy.  Sicily  was  declared  a  Roman  province, 
with  the  exception  of  the  kingdom  of  Syracuse.  A  pra;tor  and 
quaestor  were  sent  thid)cr  yearly,  the  former  as  a  civil  judge,  the 
latter  to  collect  the  revenues. 

Thus,  the  Romans,  after  a  war  of  twenty-four  years,  begun  un- 
der every  disadvantage,  destitute  of  finances,  totally  unprovided 
with  a  fleet,  and,  of  course,  ignorant  of  navigation,  were,  at  length, 
able  to  prescribe  the  most  humiliating  terms  to  Carthage,  the  first 
maritime  power  in  the  world. 

At  the  end  of  the  First  Punic  war,  the  temple  of  Janus  was  shut 
— an  event  which  had  not  happened  since  the  reign  of  Numa,  that 
is,  near  500  years.  In  a  few  years  it  was  again  o|iencd,  and  never 
shut  till  the  reign  of  Augustus. 

The  treaty  with  the  Carthaginians  was  of  no  long  duration.  It 
was  of  too  humbling  a  nature  to  the  pride  of  this  migiity  power,  to 
subsist  longer  than  absolute  necessity  compelled: — an  useful  lesson 
of  moderation  to  a  victorious  people.  No  sooner  had  a  little  time 
allowed  the  vanrjuished  state  to  repair  her  losses,  than  the  war 
broke  out  again,  with  redoubled  animosity.  The  C'arthn-ii.iians 
began  hostilities  by  the  siege  of  Sagiintum,  a  rity  f>f  Spain,  then 
m  alliance  with  the  Romans.  Tin;  siege  was  conducted  by  Ilan- 
iii!)al,  then  a  very  young  man,  but  who,  from  his  infancy,  lui'l  b«'Pu 
iniued  to  arms,  and  had  all  the  qualities  of  a  great  genera!.  His 
character  has  been  drawn  by  Livy  with  the  pencil  of  a  master: — 
"  IIannil)al,  being  sent  into  Spain,  on  his  arrival  drew  the  eyes  of 
the  whole  army  upon  him.  The  old  soldiers  believed  that  Hamil- 
car was  again  restored  to  life,  and  that  they  saw  once  more  tho 
same  look  of  decision,  the  same  fire  of  the  rye,  the  very  counte- 
nance and  lineaments  of  their  leader.  Speedily,  there  was  no  npr«l 
of  such  recollections  of  the  father  to  endear  to  them  the  s<in. 
None  ever  showed  a  hap|)i('r  ajuitufle  of  disposition,  wheiher  in 
obeying  or  commanding;  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether 
he  was  most  prized  by  the  general  or  by  the  army.  Nor,  m  wliat- 
9.\er  service  of  difficulty  or  of  danger,  would  .\s(lnibal  nppoint  any 
otner  to  tho  command,  or  ihe  troops  engage  under  any  other  wiilj 


.^7  2  UNIVERSAL    IIISTORT.  [nooK  iri 

cqua.  confidence  and  courage.  His  boldness  In  undertaking  a  peril- 
ous enterprise  was  equalled  by  bis  prudence  in  conducting  it. 
His  strength,  neither  of  body  nor  mind,  was  ever  seen  to  yir.'ld  to 
the  severest  labor.  Insensible  alike  to  heat  or  cold,  his  food  and 
drink  were  liiniterl  to  the  necessities  of  nature,  never  indulged  to 
gratification.  All  hours  of  the  day  or  night  were  to  him  aliki', 
whether  for  duty  or  repose;  what  could  be  spared  from  the  former 
was  given  to  the  latter;  no  appliances  were  wanted, — no  s(  ft 
couch,  or  silent  retirement.  Often  was  he  seen,  amidst  the  bustle 
of  a  military  post,  snatching  a  brief  repose  on  the  bare  ground,  his 
cloak  his  only  covering.  He  affected  no  superiority  of  dress;  val- 
uing himself  only  on  his  arms  and  on  his  horses;  himself  the  har- 
diest foot-soldier,  and  the  most  gallant  horseman,  the  first  to  rush 
into  combat,  the  last  to  quit  the  field.  Yet  were  these  high  quali- 
ties counteracted  by  enormous  vices,  by  the  most  inhuman  cruelty, 
by  worse  than  Punic  perfidy,  by  the  utter  disregard  of  truth  and 
of  every  thing  sacred — owning  no  fear  of  Heaven,  and  regardless 
."dike  of  promises  and  oaths." 

Saguntum  was  taken  by  Hannibal  after  a  siege  of  seven  months, 
in  which  the  inhabitants  had  endured  the  utmost  miseries  atten- 
dant on  war.  Faithful  to  their  alliance  with  the  Romans,  this 
brave  people  defended  themselves  to  the  last  extremity;  and  when 
at  length  convinced  that  their  resistance  was  ineffectual,  ihey  set 
fire  to  the  city,  and  the  whole  of  them  either  perished  in  the  flames, 
or  were  cut  to  pieces  by  the  Carthaginians. 

The  military  strength  of  the  Romans  was,  at  this  time,  very 
considerable.  They  had  six  legions  in  the  field,  amounting  to 
24,000  foot  and  18,000  horse:  they  had,  besides,  from  the  auxil- 
iary states  of  Italy,  an  army  of  43,000  men;  and  their  marine 
consisted  of  240  ships  of  war. 

The  forces  of  the  Carthaginians  were  commanded  in  chief  by 
Hannibal;  and  this  intrepid  man  now  formed  the  daring  project  of 
carrying  the  war  at  once  into  the  heart  of  Italy.  He  procured 
the  minutest  information  as  to  every  difficulty  he  would  have  to 
8  :counter,  and  took  the  most  judicious  care  to  jirovide  against  all 
OJStacles.  He  gained,  by  kindness  and  by  presents,  a  number  ot 
the  Gauls  to  his  interest,  and  thus  smoothed  his  way  through  a 
country  hostilely  disposed,  but  not  daring  to  attempt  an  effectual 
o|)position.  The  passage  of  the  Ebro,  and  the  defiles  of  the  Pyre- 
nees, were  small  obstacles  to  those  his  resolution  and  intrepidit}'- 
surmounted.  On  the  first  intelligence  of  the  march  of  the  Car- 
thaginians, Publius  Scipio,  the  consul,  had  taken  the  field  with  a 
large  army,  and  hoped  by  rapid  marches  to  arrest  him  in  the  first 
part  of  his  progress,  and  to  make  the  country  of  the  Transalpine 
Gauls  the  theatre  of  the  war;  but  Hannibal  had  got  the  start  of 
him,  and  had  already  passed  the  Rhone  in  the  face  of  an  opposing 
army.  He  look  his  way  along  the  eastern  banks  of  that  river  to 
Lyons,  and  thence    to    one   of  the    chief  passes    of  the    Alps — 


B-  c.  216.]  HA.N.NinAL.  37.-1 

not  improbably  iliat  ubich  is  now  known  by  llie  nanic  of  ibe  G:eai 
St.  Beinarcb  On  proceeding  to  ascend  'tbc  uionniains,  be  fuunii 
llie  coiintiy  in  some  parts  buried  in  snow,  and  at  every  defile 
defended  by  large  troojis  of  nionniaineers.  lie  overcame,  by  as- 
tonishing perseverance,  every  difilciilty,  and,  at  lengib,  in  ibe  space 
of  fifteen  days,  peneiraied  into  that  country  wbicb  be  iiad  pioin- 
iscd  to  bis  troops  as  ibe  end  and  llie  reward  of  ibeir  labors.  Tbe 
time  occupied  in  the  whole  of  this  march  was  five  mondis  and  a 
balf.  His  army,  on  leaving  Carthage,  amounted  to  50,000  foul  and 
20,000  horse  ;  but  of  these,  on  arriving  in  Italv,  there  reinaihrd 
only  20,000  foot  and  G,000  horse,  this  expedition,  of  which 
Polyljius  and  Livy  have  each  given  a  detailed  narration  ((hlFering  in 
a  few  minute  particulars),  is  deservedly  reckoned  one  of  the  mosi 
reinarkable  exploits  of  anticpiily.* 

In  the  first  battle  with  the  Carthaginians  in  Italy,  ilic  Romans 
were  defeated.  The  consul  Scipio  was  wounded,  and  must  have 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  but  for  the  bravery  of  his  son, 
tbe  younger  Scipio,  then  a  youth  of  fifteen  years  of  aze,  afterwards 
known  by  tlie  glorious  surname  of  Africanu-.  The  Romans  lost 
anoihcr  battle  near  llie  river  Trebia  in  llie  neighborhood  of  Pla- 
centia.  They  received  a  siill  more  signal  overthrow  near  the  lake 
Thrasymenus,  where  the  consul  Flaminius  was  killed,  and  bis  army 
cut  to  pieces.  The  Roman  historians  themselves  allow  that  Han- 
nibal, amidst  these  successes,  behaved  with  a  moderation  which 
added  lustre  to  bis  victories.  If  his  clemency  was  allected,  his 
prudence  at  least,  was  admirable.  The  prisoners  belonging  to  the 
allied  slates  he  dismissed  wiibout  ransom,  and  endeavored  to  make 
them  regard  him  as  their  deliverer  from  the  oppression  they  >uirered 
under  the  yoke  of  the  Ron)ans. 

A  misunderstanding  that  prevailed  between  the  two  new  con- 
suls, Varro  and  Emilius,  was  the  immediate  cause  of  that  fatal 
defeai  which  the  Romans  sustained  at  Canna;  in  Apulia,  and 
which  brought  the  Rc^puhlic  lo  the  very  brink  of  destruction.  The 
consuls  took  tlie  chief  command  alternately,  each  for  a  day  ;  an 
unwv-^e  arrangement,  which  demandet.1  the  most  perfect  consonance 
of  desit:ns  and  of  tempers.  It  was  the  turn  of  \'arro,  who,  eager 
to  signalize  himself,  was  imi)riident  eiiougli  to  attack  the  army  of 
Hannibal,  then  admirably  posted,  and  which  bad  every  advantage 
botli  of  disposition  and  situation.  The  manteuvres  of  the  Cartha- 
ginian general  in  tbe  battle  of  Canna;  showed  the  most  profound 
knowledge  in  the  military  art.  I  shall  not  here  enter  into  a  par- 
licuiai-  detail  of  them  ;  but  when  I  come  to  treat  of  the  system  of 
war  among  the  ancients,  I  shall  select  as  an  cxatnple  ibis  great 
battle,  and  shall  endeavor  to  give  some  idea  of  thai  very  simple 


*  Tlic  ro, •.'.."  ofllnnnilial  arross  llip  Alp^  is  nol  ilrscrilx-d  l>y  lit*'  ancient  wiilera 
With  such  accuracy  us  lo  ;;ive  any  ccrlainty  <>f  ila  precise  directiun. 


371  UNIVF.USAI.    IIISTOKV.  [  BOOK   III. 

ami  admirable  manoeuvre  plannod  by  Hannibal  in  ilio  heat  of  the 
cngagoinciit,  to  which  the  Carthaginians  owed  their  success.  The 
Roman  army  was  entirely  cut  to  pieces.  Forty  thousand  were 
left  dead  ii])on  the  field  of  battle,  among  whom  was  the  consu» 
Emilins,  and  almost  the  whole  body  of  the  Roman  kniihts.  Varro. 
the  other  consul,  followed  by  a  few  horse,  fled  precipitately  tc 
Vcnusia. 

The  Romans,  amidst  the  consternation  from  so  great  a  disaster, 
displayed  a  magnanimity  truly  heroic.  The  senate,  on  the  first 
report  of  the  fate  of  their  army,  ordered  the  gates  of  the  city  to  be 
shut,  lest  the  exaggerated  intelligence  of  those  who  fled  from  the 
fight  should  add  to  the  general  alarm.  The  women  were  forbid 
to  stir  out  of  their  houses,  lest  their  cries  and  lamentations  should 
dispirit  those  who  had  their  country  to  defend  ;  and  the  senators 
•exerted  themselves  in  every  quarter  to  dispel  the  fears  of  the 
people. 

Varro,  from  the  wTCck  of  the  army,  was  able  to  collect  10,000 
men  ;  with  these  he  repaired  to  Rome  to  defend  the  city,  in  case 
Hannibal,  as  was  expected,  should  immediately  attack  it.  This 
measure  was  undoubtedly  his  wisest  policy,  and  he  was  strongly 
urged  to  it  by  Maherbal,  one  of  his  ablest  officers.  It  appeared, 
however,  to  Hannibal,  a  doubtful  enterprise  ;  and  while  lie  delib- 
erated, the  opportunity  was  lost.  Varro,  whose  temerity  was  the 
cause  of  this  great  disaster,  on  approaching  Rome  with  the  shat- 
tered remains  of  the  army  whom  he  had  with  much  pains  collected, 
was  met  by  the  senate  and  received  their  solemn  thanks,  because 
he  had  not  despaired  of  the  republic.* 

The  effect  of  this  spirited  conduct  was  wonderful.  The  citizens 
thronged  to  carry  their  money  to  the  public  treasury.  All  above 
the  age  of  seventeen,  of  whatever  rank,  enrolled  themselves,  and 
formed  an  army  of  four  legions  and  10,000  horse.  Eight  thou- 
sand of  the  slaves  voluntarily  ofiered  their  services,  and  with  the 
consent  of  their  masters  were  embodied  and  armed.  The  allied 
states  likewise  furnished  troops  in  proportion  to  their  abilities. 

The  success  of  Hannibal  was  variously  judged  of  at  Carthage. 
The  most  sanguine,  and  the  most  short-sighted,  concluded  that 
Rome  was  now  annihilated,  et  quod  actum  erat  de  republica  Ro- 
mana.  The  wiser  part  reasoned  far  otherwise.  They  had  heard 
of  thg  conduct  of  the  city  subsequent  to  that  great  disaster,  and 


*  Varro,  however  unfortunate  in  this  affair,  and  justly  censurable  for  his  te- 
merity, was  both  a  brave  and  a  modest  man.  His  countrymen  were  so  sensi- 
ble of  his  virtues  and  abilities,  that  they  proposed  in  this  emerffency  to  create 
him  dictator;  but  he  refused  that  hi;jh  situation.  "  Confrejit  rempublicam  Te- 
rentius  Varro,  Cannensis  pujrnfB  temerario  ingressu  ;  idem  delatam  sibi  ab  uni- 
verse senatu  ct  populo  dictaturani  recipcrc  non  sustinendo,  pudore  culpain 
ma\im(P  rhdis  redemit;  effecitque  ul  clades  deorum  irse,  medestii  ipsius  mori 
bus  imputaretur." — Valer.  Ma.i.  lib   iv    c  .'>. 


B.    C.  214.]  FABIUS    MAXIMLS.  37.^ 

they  judgiiil  mat  while  that  spirit  cxisicrl,  ilicrc  was  mm  h  viM 
which  letriaiticd  for  them  to  con(|iier.  But  even  tlie  most  sa2;a- 
cioiis  could  not  have  foreseen  that  Ilaiinihal  was  to  ruin  himsxlf  liv 
his  own  imprudence.  Capua,  llie  metropolis  of  Campania,  had 
opened  her  gates  to  the  victor  ;  the  winter  furnished  a  proi<>xt  to 
his  troops  to  desire  some  respite  from  their  fatis;ues  ;  and  he  yield- 
ed to  the  blandishments  of  case,  and  to  the  seduction  of  luxury. 
While  his  army  indulged  in  all  the  variety  of  pleasures,  tin'y  he 
lievod  they  had  now  attained  the  end  and  the  reward  of  tlieir  toils ; 
daily  desertions  weakened  their  numbers:  and  the  Romans  soon 
recovered  the  superiority  they  had  lost. 

The  proconsul  Sempronius  Gracchus,  at  the  head  of  an  army 
composed  chiefly  of  slaves,  defeated  18,000  Carthaginians  at  Ben- 
evpntum.  With  permission  of  the  senate,  he  had  promised  all  of 
them  their  liberty  if  they  proved  victorious,  and  this  prospect  gave 
thorn  the  courage  of  heroes.  Philij)  11.,  king  of  Maccdon,  having 
made  an  alliance  with  Hannibal,  landed  in  Italy,  and  laid  siege  to 
Apollonia,  but  being  surprised  in  his  catnp  by  the  pro-praetor  Lae- 
vinus,  and  utterly  defeated,  with  difllculty  secured  his  retreat  to 
his  own  dominions. 

The  republic  owed  much  to  the  military  skill  and  prudence  of 
the  consul  Fabius,  justly  surnamcd  Maximus,  who  found  the  true 
secret  of  weakening  the  Carthaginians  and  wearing  out  the  spirits 
of  their  leaders,  by  avoiding  a  general  engagement.  An  army  at 
a  distance  from  the  source  of  its  supplies,  and  in  a  hostile  country, 
must  act  with  unremitting  vigor  —  or  perish.  The  Syracusans 
having  broken  their  alliance  with  Rome,  and  taken  part  wid)  the 
Carthaginians,  Marcellus,  who,  previous  to  the  disaster  of  Cannrr, 
had  defeated  Hannibal  before  Nola,  in  Campania,  being  at  this 
time  pro-consul  in  Sicily,  formed  the  design  of  besieging  Syracuse. 
This,  however,  was  found  a  more  difllcult  enterprise  than  had  been 
expected.  The  genius  of  a  single  man  was  found  sunicicnl  to 
withstand  for  a  gieat  length  of  time  the  utmost  elForts  of  an  ene- 
my by  sea  and  land.  This  extraordinary  man  was  Arrhimcdos. 
It  is  pity  that  the  ancient  authors  who  have  minutely  detailed 
the  prodit^ious  effects  of  those  machin(^s  which  he  constructed,  and 
sc  succesifully  employed  in  this  remarkable  siege,  have  given  ac- 
counts 30  obscure  and  im|ierfeft  of  their  construction.  The  city 
was  twenty-two  miles  in  compass,  and  was  conipletely  dcfiMidod  at 
every  point,  both  on  the  quarter  of  ...e  land  and  sea.  The  Ro- 
man Heet  consisted  of  sixty  galleys  of  five;  banks  of  oars,  and  an 
immense  number  of  smaller  vessels.  These  were  manned  with 
archers,  slingers,  and  engineers,  who  worked  the  halistn-  and  cata- 
pulta  erected  on  their  decks.  Marcellus  caused  eight  galleys  to 
be  joined  together  laterally  by  iron  chains,  and  on  their  surface, 
as  a  foundation,  an  immense  tower  was  erected,  whose  height 
overtopped  the  walls  of  the  city.  This  huge  machine,  which 
Marcellus  called  his  Sambuca,  or  Dulcimer,  was  slowly  advancinj^, 


37G  UMVEUSAL  iir.srouy.  [book   hi 

rowed  by  a  great  number  of  men,  when  Arcbliuedcs  discharged 
from  one  of  his  engines  a  stone  of  1250  pounds,  weiglit,  then  a 
second,  and  immediately  afterwards  a  third,  with  a  direction  so 
sure  as  to  batter  the  galleys  and  the  tower  to  pieces  in  a  few  min- 
tjtes.  An  immense  artillery  of  darts,  stones,  burning  torches,  and 
every  material  of  annoyance,  was  incessantly  laniichcd  upon  the 
besiegers  from  every  quarter  of  the  walls;  while  the  n)achines  from 
W'hicb  they  issued  were  altogether  beyond  their  reach  and  even  out 
of  their  sight.  It  was  of  no  avail  whether  they  made  their  attack 
from  a  distance  or  close  to  the  walls.  If  within  the  shot  of  a  bow, 
the  engines  of  Archimedes  assailed  the  galleys  with  stones  of  such 
weight  as  entirely  to  demolish  them;  if  they  a))proached  the  walls, 
they  were  seized  by  cranes  and  grappling  irons,  suspended  in  the 
air,  and  suddenly  let  fall  with  a  force  that  sunk  them.  Taking  ad- 
vantage of  a  meridian  sun,  and  concentrating  the  rays  by  a  combi- 
nation of  polished  metal,  this  wonderful  engineer  burnt  the  vessels 
of  the  enemy  at  a  furlong's  distance — *  thus,  in  the  words  of  an 
old  writer,  making  even  the  fire  of  heaven  obedient  to  his  com- 
mands.f  Such,  says  Plutarch,  became  at  length  the  terror  of  the 
Roman  soldiers  at  this  almost  supernatural  warfare,  that  if  any  man 
saw  the  smallest  piece  of  cord  or  wood  making  its  appearance 
above  the  walls,  he  instantly  took  to  flight,  crying  out  to  his  com- 
panions that  they  were  to  be  overwhelmed  in  a  moment  by  some 
tremendous  power. 

But  the  peseverance  of  the  Romans  prevailed  at  length  over 
the  valor  of  the  Syracusans  and  the  genius  of  Archimedes.  In  the 
third  year  of  the  siege  the  city  was  carried  by  surj)rise.  Marcel- 
"lus  took  advantage  of  a  great  festival  which  the  Syracusans  cele- 
brated in  honor  of  Diana,  and  in  the  dead  of  night,  while  the  sen- 
tinels were  sunk  in  sleep  after  a  deep  debauch,  scaling  the  walls 
at  the  same  moment  in  several  different  quarters,  the  Romans 
were  in  possession  of  a  great  part  of  the  town  before  the  Syracu- 
sans W'Cre  aware  of  their  danger.  Marcellus  wished  to  save  this 
great  and  sj)lendid  city  from  destruction,  and  sent  proposals  to  the 
garrison  of  the  citadel  for  a  surrender  on  terms  sullicienily  moder- 
ate   and  humane.     But  these  were  not  immediately  embraced,  as 


*Some  of  the  moderns  have  questioned  the  authenticity  of  the  accounts  pivcn 
by  ancient  writers  of  the  wonderful  niacliines  of  Archimedes,  and  pnrticulr.ily  of 
that  apparatus  of  mirrors  by  which  it  is  snid  he  burnt  the  enemy's  shi|)s  (see 
Descartes,  Dioptric.  Disc,  viii.,  Fonteiielle,  GEuvres,  tS:c.)  ;  but  the  more  jreneral 
opinion  of  men  of  science  is  in  favor  of  their  credibility.  ISI.  de  Buffun  construc- 
ted a  burninir-glass  composed  of  KJS  plain  mirrors,  which  set  fire  to  wood  nl  tlie 
distance  of '2o;j  feet,  and  melted  lead  at  the  distance  of  120.  Leibnitz  did  ju.stice 
to  this  great  jjenius  among  the  ancients  when  he  said  "  Qui  Archimedem  in- 
tellefjit,  recent iorum  summorum  virorum  inventa  parcius  mirabitur;"  and  Dr. 
Wailis,  speaking  of  Archimedes,  terms  him,  '"Vir  stiipendre  sagacitatis.  qui  prima 
fundamenla  posuil  inventionum  fere  omnium, de  quibiis  promovendis  telas  nostra 
gloriatur.  See  Dutens's  Inquiry  into  the  Discoveries  of  tlie  Moderns,  pa-*  iii 
ch.  U).  12. 

t  Eustath.  ad.  Iliad.  E  ' 


«»,    C.  208. J  FALL    or    C.VRTUACiiNA.  ^77 

ihe  garrison  expected  a  relief ;  ami  tlie  Roman  general,  apprehen- 
sive of  that  issue,  was  rehictaiuly  compelled  to  use  the  riu,iii.s  of  a 
conqueror,  and  abandoned  the  city  to  the  plunder  of  the  soldiery. 
Still,  however,  his  clemency  was  conspicuous,  for  he  left  the  gales 
open  for  the  escape  of  all  who  chose  to  save  their  lives  oy  flight. 
It  had  been  happy  if  Archimedes  had  availed  himself  of  this 
permission  ;  but  the  philosopher  was  busy  in  his  closet  with  a 
geometrical  demonstration,  when  a  soldier,  plundering  his  ho.ise, 
killed  him  on  the  spot.  Marcellus  erected  a  monument  to  his 
memory,  and  took  a  humane  and  generous  charge  of  all  liis 
kindred. 

The  kingdom  of  Syracuse  uas  now  added  to  the  Roman  pro- 
vince in  Sicily,  which  already  comprehended  the  greater  part  of 
that  island. 

While  the  war  in  Italy  against  the  troops  of  Hannibal  was  in 
the  meantime  successfully  spun  out  to  their  destruction,  by  ih»» 
great  Fabiiis,  the  younger  Scipio,  who  had  succeeded  his  father  as 
pro-consul  in  Spain,  accomplished  the  reduction  of  that  peninsula. 
The  taking  of  Carthagena  (Carthago  nova)  was  a  fatal  blow  to  the 
enemy.  It  was  the  most  opulent  of  the  foreign  ports,  and  llje 
Romans  found,  besides  great  treasures,  an  immense  magazine  of 
military  stores,  which  had  been  lodged  there  as  in  a  depot  fur  the 
conquest  of  Italy. 

Meantime  Asdrubal  had  passed  the  vMps,  wiili  a  powerful 
army,  to  the  assistance  of  his  brother  Hannibal.  But  ilie  consul 
Claudius  Nero,  coming  upon  him  by  surprise  in  a  disadvantageous 
situation,  into  wiiich  he  had  been  led  by  the  treachery  of  his  guides, 
engaged  and  entirely  defeated  him.  Asdrubal  was  killi'd  in  battle, 
and  Claudius,  marchini^  to  meet  Hannibal,  gave  him  tin;  first  in- 
telligence of  the  defeat  by  throwing  his  brother's  heail  into  nis 
camp.  This  Carthaginian  oflicer,  though  thus  iniforiunate,  had  a 
very  high  character  as  a  general.  Had  Asdrul)al  been  successful 
in  this  engagement,  and  efTected  a  junction  widi  his  brother,  it  Ij 
extremely  probable  that  every  thing  must  have  given  way  before 
them  in  Italy.  But  the  defeat  of  that  great  army  and  the  death 
of  their  header,  threw  a  gloom  of  despondency  on  all  the  prospeclu 
of  Haniiil)al,  nnd  gave  new  life  and  courage  to  the  Ron)ans. 

Scipio,  triuni|)hant  in  Spain,  now  passed  into  Afiica,  and  carricil 
havoc  and  devastation  even  to  the  gales  of  Caril^me.  Alarmed 
for  the  fate  of  their  empire,  the  Carthaginians  recalled  Hannibal 
from  Italy,  where  of  late  he  had  made  no  progress.  The  balile 
of  Zama,  in  Africa,  decided  the  fale  of  the  war.  Twenty  thou- 
sand Carthaginians  were  slain  in  the  field,  and  an  eipial  nninber 
taken  prisoners.  The  loss  of  tlie  Rouians  did  not  e.xcceil  two 
thousaiul.  Hannibal  himself  with  dillicMlty  e^raped  from  the  field, 
and  arriving  at  Carthage,  represenied  air;iirs  in  so  desperate  a  poinl 
of  view,  that  it  was  immedintely  resolved  to  sue  for  peace.  Il 
was  granted  by  Scipio  on  these  conditions — thai  the  Carihaginiati 
VOL.  I.  43 


.'^8  UNIVKKS.VI.    IIISTOKV.  [lIOOK  JII 

should  abnndon  Spain  and  Sicily,  together  with  all  the  islands  lying 
between  Iiiily  and  Africa;  that  tlioy  should  make  restiiuiion  of  all 
prisoners  and  deserters,  give  up  all  their  ships,  except  ten  galleys 
and  pay  wiliiin  the  term  of  fjfiy  years,  ten  thousand  talents;  and, 
lastly,  that  they  shoidd  undertake  no  war  without  the  consent  of  the 
Romans.  Such  was  the  conclusion  of  the  Sef;ond  Punic  war, 
ended  thus  gloriously  for  Rome,  and  most  honorably  for  Publius 
Scipio,  to  whom  his  country  decreed  a  splendid  triumph,  distin- 
guishing him  ever  afterwards  by  the  surname  of  Africanus. 

Every  thing  now  concurred  to  swell  the  pride  of  the  Romans 
.md  to  extend  their  power.  A  vast  increase  of  wealth  had  flowed 
into  Rome  from  the  late  conquests.  Their  recent  continued  vic- 
tories, and  the  plunder  they  derived  from  them,  inflamed  theii 
appetite  for  fresh  acquisitions.  It  was  no  longer  that  petty  nation 
occupying  a  part  of  Italy  whom  we  have  sGen  for  centuries  waging 
an  insignificant  war  with  the  tribes  which  surrounded  them;  it  was 
a  people  which  began  to  aspire  at  the  sovereignty  of  the  world. 

In  this  disposition  it  was  not  surprising  that  they  should  eagerly 
embrace  every  opportunity  which  offered  of  extending  their  con- 
quests. We  have  seen,  in  treating  of  the  last  period  of  the  Grecian 
history,  that  Philip  II.  of  Macedon,  harassed  the  Greek  states 
with  frequent  attacks  uiion  their  territories.  They  complained  to 
the  Romans,  who  immediately  declared  war  against  the  Macedo- 
nian.  Philip  was  defeated,  and  was  glad  to  purchase  a  peace 
by  paying  a  thousand  talents,  and  giving  his  son  Demetrius  as  a 
hostage. 

The  kingdom  of  Syria  was,  at  this  time,  the  most  powerful 
branch  of  the  empire  of  Alexander;  but  ruined  in  its  domestic 
policy  by  the  foolish  wars  of  ihe  princes  of  the  family  of  Seleucus, 
it  was  in  a  state  of  disorder  and  anarchy.  Antiochus,  the  prince 
on  the  throne,  had  provoked  the  indignation  of  the  Romans  by 
opposing  their  arms  in  Greece,  and  giving  an  asylum  to  Hannibal, 
then  an  exile  from  Carthage.  Antiochus  was  defeated  near  Ther- 
mopylae, and  pursued  by  the  two  Scipios  into  his  own  kingdom  of 
Syria,  where  after  various  losses,  he  was  reduced  to  the  necessity 
of  concluding  a  peace  on  the  most  humiliating  terms.  He  agreed 
to  pay  fifteen  thousand  talents  as  the  expenses  of  the  war,  to 
abandon  all  his  possessions  in  Europe,  and  to  cede  to  the  Romans 
the  whoie  of  Asia  to  the  west  of  Taurus,  that  is,  the  whole  coun- 
try from  the  borders  of  Mesopotamia  and  Armenia  to  the  ^Egean 
Sea.  The  Romans,  with  much  meanness,  demanded  as  another 
condition,  that  Antiochus  should  give  up  Hannibal  into  their 
hands;  but  the  Carthaginian  had  made  his  escape  on  the  first 
intelligence  that  a  treaty  was  in  agitation.  The  younger  Scipio 
(Lucius)  was  honored  on  this  occasion  with  the  surname  of 
Asiaticus,  as  the  elder  brother  Publius  had  gained  that  of  Afri- 
canus. 

These  Asiatic  conquests  were,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  mucb, 


B.   C.    187."!  SCIPIO    AFHICANLS — CATO.  379 

more  prejudicial  than  advantageous  to  llie  Romans.  Their  simple 
and  austere  manners  began  gradually  to  relax,  and  they  acciuired 
a  relish  for  luxurious  enjoynienis.  This  change  in  the  manners 
of  his  countrymen  roused  the  virtuous  indignation  of  Cato  the 
censor,  the  determined  enemy  of  every  species  of  luxury  and 
corruption.  At  the  time  when  Haiiiiihal  was  ravaging  Italy,  and 
when  the  Roman  state  had  tlie  strongest  motive  to  retrench  all 
superfluous  expenses,  a  sumptuary  statute,  called  the  Oppian  law, 
was  passed,  which  prohibited  the  women  from  the  use  of  gold  in 
their  ornaments,  beyond  tlie  quantity  of  half  an  ounce,  and  froni 
wearing  garments  of  dificrent  colors,  and  likewise  interdicted  the 
use  of  chariots.  At  the  end  of  the  Second  Punic  war  the  Roman 
ladies  used  all  their  influence  to  have  this  law  repeah^d,  urging 
that  the  motive  for  its  enactment  no  longer  existed.  So  earnest 
were  they  in  iheir  piwpose,  that,  forgetting  that  modest  reserve 
which  is  their  sex's  highest  ornamen',  they  rushed  out  into  the 
streets,  and  besetting  every  avenue  to  tiie  forum,  laid  hold  of  the 
men  as  they  passed,  and  endeavored,  both  by  clamor  and  by 
blandishments,  to  engage  their  votes  for  the  abrogation  of  this 
odious  statute.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the  rigid  virtue  of  old 
Cato,  then  consul,  was  inflamed  with  indignation  at  this  spectacle. 
He  poured  forth  an  animated  oration  on  the  occasion,  but  in  a 
tone  of  keen  irony  which  the  greater  part  of  his  auditors  judged 
too  severe;  for  the  obnoxious  law  was  repealed  by  a  majority  of 
sufirages. 

Much  more  justifiable  on  this  occasion  was  the  severity  of  Cato 
than  on  another  which  occurred  soon  after.  He  incited  two  of 
the  tribunes,  the  Petilii,  to  bring  a  formal  accusation  against  Scipio 
Africanus,  as  guilty  of  peculation  in  converting  large  sums  gained 
in  his  foreign  conquests  to  his  own  instead  of  the  public  use.  The 
behavior  of  Scipio  on  this  occasion  was  consonant  to  the  magna- 
nimity of  his  cliaracter.  On  the  first  day  of  his  citation  before 
the  assembly  of  the  people,  when  his  accusation  was  read,  appear- 
ing not  to  have  listened  to  it,  he  entered  into  an  ample  detail  of 
all  the  illustrious  services  he  had  rendered  his  country.  His  ac- 
cusers made  no  reply,  not  daring  to  controvert  a  single  word  which 
he  had  uttered;  but  contented  themselves  with  adjourning  the 
issembly  to  the  next  day.  On  the  morrow,  while  an  immense 
multitude  crowded  the  forum,  Scipio  pressed  forward  to  the  tribu- 
nal, and  making  a  signal  for  silence,  *'  My  countrymen,"  said  he, 
"  it  was  on  this  very  day  that  I  fought  bravely  for  you  against 
Hannibal  and  the  Carthaginians  in  the  field  of  Zama,  and  gained 
a  glorious  victory.  Is  it  thus  vou  celel)r3te  that  anniversary? 
Come,  let  us  repair  instantly  to  the  capitol,  and  give  our  solemn 
thanks  to  all  the  gods  for  the  republic  preserved  through  my 
means."  With  one  universal  acclamation,  the  whole  muliitudo 
followed  him  while  he  led  the  way  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter — and 
the   tril)unes  were  left  alone  in   the  foruu).     Tho    ix'r.sisied,  how- 


380  UMVEIISAL  mSTOKV.  [iJOO/i   III 

over,  ill  appoinling  a  lliird  day  for  the  trial;  but  Scipio  jjaidno 
regard  to  tiiu  summons,  and  ilie  tribunes  ibcmselves,  ciiber  asham- 
ed of  tiieir  conduct  or  convinced  that  the  trial  must  terminate  to 
their  own  disadvantage  and  an  increase  of  honor  to  the  accused, 
thought  proper  lo  drop  the  prosecution.  The  illustrious  Africanus 
died  soon  after,  in  peaceful  retirement  at  his  country  scat  of  Lin- 
ternum. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  stronger  testimony  to  the  simjjlicity  and 
integrity  of  this  great  man  than  what  is  recorded  of  him  by  Cicero, 
that  when  in  the  country  and  free  from  the  cares  of  public  life,  he 
cojld  amuse  himself  even  with  the  pastimes  of  children.  In  the 
second  book,  De  Oratore^  is  this  beautiful  passage:  "  I  have 
been  often  told  (says  Crassus)  by  my  father-in-law,  that  his  kins- 
man Laelius  and  the  great  Scipio  were  frequently  wont  to  fly  from 
the  bustle  of  the  town  lo  a  quiet  retreat  in  the  country,  and  there 
to  employ  themselves  in  sports  that  were  childish  lo  a  degree  be- 
yond all  belief.  Nay,  though  I  should  hardly  venture  to  tell  it  of 
such  men,  yet  Scaevola  assured  me  that  when  they  were  at  Cajeta 
and  on  the  banks  of  the  Lucrine,  they  were  wont  to  pass  their 
time  in  gadiering  shells  and  pebbles  on  the  shore,  and  in  every  sort 
of  frolic  and  amusement,  just  as  the  liille  birds  fly  about  in  wanton 
circles  when  they  have  finished  the-  task  of  building  their  nests 
and  providing  for  their  young."*  Why  should  Cicero  feel  asham- 
ed, or  apologize  for  mentioning  this  anecdote,  which  in  reality 
does  so  much  honor  to  the  persons  of  whom  it  is  recorded?  No 
force  of  words,  no  pompous  eulogium,  could  convey  to  us  so  just 
an  idea,  so  convincing  a  proof,  of  the  virtuous  simplicity  of  those 
men  or  the  probity  of  their  minds,  as  this  beautiful  picture.  The 
man  who  feels  the  stings  of  an  evil  conscience,  whose  soul  is  a 
prey  to  the  turbulent  passions  of  avarice  or  criminal  ambition,  can 
never  thus  taste  pleasure  in  the  sports  of  innocence.  He  will 
seek  to  drown  the  reflections  of  his  mind  in  violent  gratifications, 
and  in  the  intoxication  of  sensual  enjoyments.  Seneca  has  added 
his  testimony  to  the  virtues  of  the  great  Scipio  in  these  words  : 
*' I  write  this  letter  from  Llnternum,  the  villa  of  Scipio  Africanus; 
I  reverence  his  shade,  and  pay  my  veneration  to  thai  little  altar 
:vhich  I  have  erected  to  his  memory  on  the  very  spot  where,  as  I 


*  Saepe  ex  socero  meo  audivi,  c«m  is  dicerel,  socerum  suum  Lselium  serr 
por  Cerit  cum  Scipione  solitum  rusticari ;  eosque  incrcdibilitcr  repuerasceic  esse 
Bolitos,  cum  riis  ex  urlie  tanquam  ex  vincnlis  evolavissent.  Mon  atideo  dinere 
de  talibiis  viris,  sed  tamen  ita  solet  narrare  Scaevola,  coiiclias  eos  et  umbilicos 
ad  Cajelam  et  ad  Lucrinum  leo-ere  consiiesse,  et  ad  omiiein  animi  remisSionem 
ludumque  desccndero.  Sic  eiiim  se  res  habet ;  ul  quemadiiiodnm  volucres 
videmus  procreationis  atque  utilitatis  sure  causa  fin^cre  et  construere  nidos" 
ea??dem  aiilem,  cum  aliquid  effccerint,  liEvandi  laboris  sui  causa,  passim  ao 
liberc  solulas  opcre  volitare  :  &,c. — Cic.  de  Oratore.  lib.  ii.  c.  C. 


B.   C     180]  DEATH    OF    PHILIP    II.    OF    MACCDO.V  S81 

conjecture,  he  lies  biirierl.  His  soul,  I  am  confident,  luis  returned 
to  that  heaven  from  which  it  came."* 

The  younger  Scipio  (Asiaticiis)  was  soon  after  impeached  for 
the  same  crime  which  had  been  matter  of  accusation  against  his 
brother.  The  tribunes,  it  seems,  were  determined  to  have  at  least 
one  victim  from  that  ilhistrious  house  of  the  Cornelii.  lie  was 
condemned  to  pay  a  heavy  fine,  as  is  generally  believed,  upon  false 
evidence;  for  when  his  whole  property  was  seized,  his  poverty 
disproved  the  calumnious  accusation,  and  the  senate  decreed  him  a 
high  recompense  for  the  injury  he  had  sustained. 

In  these  instances,  the  zeal  of  Cato,  though  doubtless  proceeding 
from  a  virtuous  motive,  was  carried  to  a  most  blamable  excess. 
The  only  apology  that  can  be  made  for  it  is  the  shocking  pro- 
fligacy of  manners  of  which  his  own  times  furnished  a  striking 
exam|)le  in  that  society  which  was  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Bacchanalian.  Under  the  pretence  of  a  religious  institution  in 
honor  of  Bacchus,  a  vast  number  of  both  sexes  and  of  all  ranks, 
associated  themselves  in  a  mysterious  combination  bound  to  secrecy 
by  tremendous  oaths.  They  held  their  meetings  at  midnight,  five 
times  every  month,  and  promiscuously  indulged  in  every  species 
of  debauchery,  and  even  in  the  commission  of  the  most  atrocious 
crimes  :  for  the  youth  of  either  sex  whom  they  trepanned  to  their 
abominable  purposes,  if  unwilling  victims,  usually  paid  the  forfeit 
of  life.  A  freed  woman,  anxious  for  the  safety  of  her  lover,  dis- 
closed the  mysteries  to  the  consul,  Postumius,  and  to  him  and  to 
his  colleague,  the  senate  committed  full  power  to  take  every  ne- 
cessary measure  for  the  detection  and  punishment  of  all  concerned 
in  this  horrid  association,  both  in  Rome  and  in  the  other  cities  of 
Italy.  The  number  was  found  to  exceed  seven  thousand.  Of 
these  the  most  guilty  were  capitally  punished  ;  others  betook  them- 
selves to  voluntary  banishment  ;  and  not  a  few,  from  conscious 
guilt  and  the  terror  of  punishment,  laid  violent  hands  on  them- 
selves. The  senate  passed  a  solemn  decree  that  henceforward  no 
individual  should  presume  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  Bacchus,  at  which 
more  than  five  persons  assisted,  without  a  previous  permission 
granted  by  their  body  in  full  assembly.! 

The  attention  of  Rome  was  called  ofi'  from  her  domestic  con- 
cerns by  the  disorders  of  INIacedonia.  Perseus,  the  elder  son  ol" 
Philip  II.,  had  poisoned  the  car  of  his  father  by  false  accusations 
of  his  younger  brother  Demetrius,  who  had  successfully  negoti- 
ated a  peace  with  the  Romans,  and  whom  he  artfully  represented 
as  cherishing  a  design  of  dethronmg  his   father  and   supplanting 


*  In  ipsa  Scipioniij  African!  villa  jarrns,  Im'C  srrihn  ;  nflnintis  rj\i«  manil>in  el 
arA,  qiiain  srpulchrum  esse  tanli  viri  mispicor.  Aniimitn  quidem  ejus  in  cerium, 
ex  quo  oral,  rodiisse  persuadoo  niihi. — Sciicc.  Episl.  80. 

t  A  very  interesting  account  of  these  matters  is  given  by  Livy,  lil>.  xxs'it 
c.  8  el  spq. 


382  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [koOK    III 

himself  in  the  sovereignty  of  Macccioiiia.  Philip,  then  in  hw 
dotage,  hstcnccl  to  these  infamous  surmises,  and  cruelly  put  De- 
metrius to  death  hy  poison.  Tortured  Jjy  remorse,  he  sunk  into 
profound  melancholy,  and  died  a  short  time  after.  Among  the 
first  acts  of  the  administration  of  Perseus  was  an  alliance  with 
several  of  the  Grecian  states  to  make  war  against  the  Romans. 
We  have  already,  in  treating  of  the  Grecian  history,  seen  the  issu6 
of  this  war  in  the  total  defeat  of  Perseus,  uho  was  brought  captive 
to  Ronie  to  adorn  the  triumph  of  Paulus  ^Emilius,  and  in  the  reduc- 
tion of  Macedonia,  which  now  became  a  province  of  the  Roman 
empire. 

A  few  years  after  this  time  began  the  Third  Punic  war,  which 
terminated  in  the  destruction  of  Carthage.  Massinissa,  king  of 
Numidia,  who  at  the  time  of  Scipio's  great  successes  in  Africa 
had  become  the  ally  of  the  Romans,  was  the  cause  of  this  war. 
The  Numidians  had  seized  some  territories  belonging  to  Carthage  ; 
and  a  war  ensued,  in  which  the  Carthaginians  were  much  weak- 
ened. The  son  of  Massinissa,  a  barbarian  in  every  sense,  slaugh- 
tered in  cold  blood  58,000  of  the  Carthaginians  after  they  had 
laid  down  their  arms.  The  Romans  with  great  meanness  laid 
hold  of  that  season  of  calamity  to  declare  war,  and  their  subse- 
quent conduct  was  equally  infamous  and  disgraceful.  The  Car- 
thaginians, weakened  and  dispirited,  conscious  of  their  utter  ina- 
bility to  withstand  this  formidable  power,  made  the  most  humble 
submission,  offering  even  to  acknowledge  themselves  the  subjects 
of  Rome.  The  senate  promised  to  show  them  every  degree  of 
favor,  on  condition  that  they  should  perform  what  the  consuls  re- 
quired of  them,  and  send  three  hundred  hostages  of  high  rank  as 
a  security  of  that  obligation.  With  natural  reluctance,  but  unsus- 
picious of  treachery,  they  gave  this  great  pledge,  and  sent  the 
hostages  to  Rome.  A  consular  army  immediately  landed  in  Africa, 
and  there  required,  in  a  solemn  manner,  that  the  Carthaginians 
should  give  up  all  the  arms  and  military  stores  contained  in  theii 
magazines.  "-You  are  now,"  said  they,  "  under  the  protection  of 
the  Romans,  and  have  no  need  of  arn)s."  In  vain  they  urged, 
that  they  were  surrounded  by  enemies,  and  needed  them  for  their 
defence.  All  remonstrance  was  ineffectual,  and  they  were  obliged 
to  submit.  The  most  infernal  treachery  followed.  Bereft  of 
arms,  the  Carthaginians  were  in  no  condition  to  refuse  wh.alever 
terms  should  be  proposed.  They  sent  deputies  to  the  Roman 
camp,  to  know  what  had  been  the  determination  of  the  senate 
with  regard  to  their  late.  They  were  now  informed  by  the 
consul  that  it  was  finally  resolved  that  they  should  abandon  their 
city,  which  the  senate  had  decreed  should  be  rased  to  its  founda- 
tions ;  but  that  they  were  to  be  allowed  to  build  on  any  other 
part  of  their  territory,  provided  it  was  at  ten  miles'  distance  from 
the  sea.  The  amazement  and  affliction  with  which  these  orders 
were  received,   are    not   to  be  described.      The  deputies  threw 


B.   C.    14G.]  DESTRUCTION    OF    CARTHAGE.  383 

ri)emsclves  upon  tlie  ground,  shed  tears  like  children,  and  endeav 
ored  by  every  motive  of  compassion  and  argument  o^  reason  lo 
prevail  on  the  consul  to  depart  from  this  inhuman  resolution.  But 
all  was  in  vain.  The  deputies  were  ordered  instantly  to  return  to 
Carthage,  and  to  intimate  the  final  determination  of  the  Romans, 
and  the  necessity  for  an  immediate  compliance. 

Despair  and  frenzy  seized  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  upon  thij 
fatal  intelligence.  They  prej)ared  for  a  frantic  exertion  of  re.iijl- 
ance,  unanimously  resolving  that  death  only  should  separate  them 
from  the  temples  and  altars  of  their  gods,  the  dwellings  of  their 
fathers,  and  the  lands  of  their  nativity.  Orders  were  immediately 
gnen  to  barricade  the  gates  of  the  city  ;  every  hand  was  active 
in  preparation  for  defence.  Arms  were  formed  from  every  male- 
rial  whiih  could  supply  them  ;  the  women  parted  with  their  orna- 
ments of  precious  metal,  and  even  cut  oiV  their  hair  to  form  bow- 
strings. The  temples  and  palaces  of  the  city  were  turned  into 
workhouses  for  the  fabrication  of  military  engines  ;  the  men  worked 
night  and  day  without  intermission,  the  wonien  bringing  their  vict- 
uals at  stated  hours,  and  assisting  themselves  in  every  labor  lo 
which  their  strength  was  equal.  The  Royians  now  found  thai 
they  had  to  do  with  a  people  who  would  defend  themselves  lo  the 
last  extremity. 

Asdrubal,  the  nephew  of  Hannibal,  whom  the  Carthaginians 
had  imprisoned  for  insulting  the  Romans,  was  now  called  lo  laKe 
the  chief  command  of  the  forces  of  his  country  ;  and  in  a  despe- 
rate engagement  he  would  have  cut  lo  pieces  the  Roman  army, 
had  it  not  been  for  a  masterly  stroke  of  Scipio  j^^milianus,*  who 
covered  their  retreat  while  they  fled  across  the  river.  The  nierit 
of  Scipio  was  so  conspicuous  on  this  occasion,  ihat  at  Rome  he 
was  unanimously  chosen  consul,  though  he  was  but  thirty-seven 
years  of  age,  and  the  age  required  by  law  for  that  high  ollice  was 
forty-three.  He  was  likewise  invested  with  the  sole  connnand  of 
the  African  war,  a  charge  which  he  soon  fulfilled  by  reducing  the 
Carthaginians  to  such  extremity  ihat  they  offered  to  submit  lo  any 
conditions,  provided  only  their  city  might  be  preserved.  But  this 
condition  Scipio  had  it  not  in  his  pow(?r  lo  grant.  In  a  strong  as- 
sault on  one  of  the  gates,  he  l)rok(!  it  down,  and  entering  with  a 
arge  force  penetrated  to  the  citadel,  which  sustained  a  siegt;  of 
several  days,  while  ihe  Romans  were  in  |)ossession  of  the  town. 
At  length  it  was  surrendered.  Sripio,  unwilling  to  destroy  liiis 
])ioud  and  splendid  capital,  sent  lo  Rome  for  ftuiher  orders.  But 
these  contained  no  mercy  for  Carthage.  The  city  was  set  fire 
to  in  many  different  quarters.  Pillage,  carnage,  and  desolation 
ensued.     The   couHa^ration   lasted   for  seventeen   days.     At    the 


*  The  son  of  ^T!iniliu3  Piiul'js,  nnd,  bv  adoption,  the  grandson  of  Scipio  Afri 
canus 


501  UMvr.nsAi,  nisTouy.  [hook  hi 

recilal  of  n  srcnn  of  lliis  kind,  it  is  impossible  to  restrain  our  iiidis- 
natioti,  and  ikjI  lo  excerale  lliat  barbarous  policy  wliieb  |jrescribe3 
a  conduct  so  contrary  to  every  worthy  feeling  of  the  buinaii  mind. 
Thus  ended  the  ill-fated  Carthage,  in  the  G07th  year  from  the 
building  of  Rome,  and  the  HGth  before  the  Christian  era. 

The  same  year  was  remarkable  for  the  destruction  of  Corinth, 
and  the  entire  extinction  of  the  liberties  of  Greece.  It  had  for 
some  time  been  the  policy  of  the  Romans  to  keep  up  divisions 
among  the  diflerent  states,  and  thus  artfully  to  substitute  them- 
selves as  umpires  in  their  quarrels,  or  excite  them  to  weaken  and 
destroy  each  other.  The  Achaians,  as  we  have  seen,  furnished 
the  chief  obstacle  to  the  accomplishment  of  their  design,  and 
obliged  them  to  resort  to  force  in  order  to  reduce  them  to  submis- 
sion. Meiellus,  the  j)raetor,  began  the  war,  which  was  terminated 
by  Mummiiis,  the  consul,  who  took  Corinth  by  storm  and  utterly 
destroyed  it.  Greece  was  immediately  afterwards  reduced  to  a 
Roman  province,  under  the  name  of  Achaia. 

This  was  the  era  of  the  commencement  of  a  tasie  for  the  fiiw 
arts  at  Rome,  to  which  the  knowledge  of  Asiatic  luxuries  had  suc- 
cessfully paved  the  way.  "  How  happy  for  mankind,"  says  Abbe 
Millot,  "  could  a  nation  be  distinguished  at  once  for  its  virtue  and 
its  refinement,  and  become  polished  and  enlightened  while  it  re- 
'amed  a  purity  of  morals  !"     But  this  is  a  beautiful  impossibility 


BOOK    THE     FOUTxTH. 


CHAPTER  ;. 


Sedition  of  the  Gracchi — Cornplia,  mother  of  tlie  Gracchi — C'riniinal  ambitioa 
of  Jugurtha — The  Romans  do-clare  war  ajjainst  him,  under  Mett'lliis  and  Ma- 
rius — Death  of  Ju^rurlha — Invasion  of  the  Cimbri — rrogressi  of  corruption 
in  the  Republic — Livius  Drnsus's  projects  of  Reform — The  Si>cial  War—Ori- 
gin of  the  civil  War — Rivalsiiip  of  Mariiis  and  Svlla  —  War  with  .Milhridalri 
—  Marius  and  Cinna — Sylla  obtains  absolute  authority — His  proscription* 
His  salutary  Reforms — He  resigns  the  Dictatorship  —  Lepidiis  defeated  ana 
slain — Pompey  distinfjuishes  himself — Luculhis's  war  a^'ainst  Mithridateit — 
He  is  superseded  by  Poinpey — Conspiracy  of  Catiline — Kxtent  of  the  denijjn 
— Punishment  of  the  Conspirators — Catiline  is  killed  in  battle — Ambitiou" 
designs  of  Julius  Cffisar — First  triumvirate — Agrarian  Law — Cu-sir'n  increaw 
of  power — His  design  for  the  removal  of  Cicero — Cicero's  pusillanimous  con- 
duct—He goes  into  Exile  —  His  Kstates  confiscated — Ciesar's  Military  Kx 
ploits  in  Gaul — P.jmpey  procures  the  recall  of  Cicero — Death  of  Craasus,  and 
rivalship  of  Ponipey    and  Cffisar. 

The  Romans,  as  we  have  seen,  had  now,  within  t!ie  ppriod  of  a 
very  few  years,  accompHshcd  the  total  destruction  of  the  Cartha- 
ginian empire,  the  most  formidable  rival  of  their  power,  and  had 
added  to  their  own  dominion  Spain,  Sicily,  Macedonia,  Grt*«'ce, 
and  a  large  portion  of  A.=;ia.  Tiiese  immense  conquests,  while 
they  aggrandized  the  Roman  name  and  dilRi-^'d  the  terror  of  their 
arms  over  a  great  ^art  of  the  globe,  introdnccd  Ht  home  ihu(  cor- 
ruption which  is  the  consequence  of  wealth,  and  that  luxury  which 
consumes  the  patriotic  spirit.  Disorders  now  arose  in  the  com- 
monweaiih  which  imdermined  its  constitution,  and  ultimately,  anil 
even  by  rapid  steps,  accomplished  its  destruction. 

At  this  period  arose  Tiberius  and  Cains  Gracchus — two  brothers, 
of  plebeian  blood  by  their  father's  side,  but  ennobled  by  civic  hon- 
ors—  and  on  their  mother's  side,  by  descent  from  the  illustrious 
Scipio  Africanus.  Their  mother,  Cornelia,  was  wont  to  siimulnle 
their  ambition  by  this  generous  reproach  :  "Why,  nty  sons,  intisi 
I  ever  be  called  the  daughter  of  Scipio,  rather  than  the  mother  ol 
the  Gracchi  ?"  Tdierius,  the  elder,  had  borne  the  chare  of 
Quaestor  in  Bjiain  ;  and,  being  called  to  account  with  threat  severity 
by  the  senate  upon  his  return,  he  conceived  a  J'i^h  nniuiosity 
against  that  body,  and  a  strong  jiredileclion  in  fa'.c:  «-•*  'he  pojiu- 
vol,.  I.  40 


:i8G  u.vivERsvi,  H.sroRV.  [noijrc  iv 

lar  uitorost  in  llic  stale.  On  tliat  side,  fio  cnncoivod,  lay  lii.s  path 
of  ainbilioii  ;  and  ilie  corniptions  in  tli(?  higher  order,  from  their 
overgrown  fortunes,  contrasted  with  tlie  indigence  and  hardships 
of  the  lower  class,  afforded  a  plausible,  and  in  some  measure  a 
just  pretence  for  a  corrective  of  that  inequality. 

Tiberius  possessed  every  accomplishment  for  a  popular  leader  ; 
a  bold  and  intrepid  mind,  inflexible  jierseverance,  and  a  nervous 
and  copious  elocution.  An  enthusiast  by  nature,  it  is  not  improb- 
able, however  warped  by  prejudice,  that  he  had  actually  per- 
suaded himself  that  his  views  were  virtuous  and  patriotic.  Being 
elected  a  tribune  of  the  jieople,  his  first  measure  was  to  propose 
ihe  revival  of  an  ancient  statute,  the  Licinian  law,  which  pro- 
hibited any  Roman  citizen  from  possessing  above  five  hundred 
jugera,  or  about  two  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  land.  To  conci- 
liate the  rich  to  this  restitution,  the  superfluous  land  in  their  pos- 
session was  to  be  paid  for,  at  a  just  price,  from  the  treasury  of  the 
state,  and  distributed  in  certain  proportions  to  the  poor.  The  patri- 
cians, as  might  have  been  expected,  opposed  this  measure  with  keen 
and  indignant  zeal ;  and,  according  to  their  customary  policy,  gained 
over  to  their  side  Octavius,  one  of  the  tribunes,  and  by  this  means 
secured  a  veto.  The  proposition  would  otherwise  have  been  car- 
ried by  a  great  majority  in  the  assembly  of  the  tribes.  Tiberius, 
enraged  at  this  disappointment,  now  adopted  a  measure  equally 
violent  and  unconstitutional.  The  veto  of  the  tribunes,  vviiich 
was  the  surest  guard  of  the  popular  interest,  had  ever  been  re- 
spected as  a  sacred  authority.  Tiberius  was  resolved  to  render 
It  vain  and  nugatory.  He  immediately  proposed  that  Octavius 
should  be  deprived  of  his  tribuneship.  It  was  in  vain  that  every 
sound  patriot  saw  the  illegality  of  this  proposal,  and  remonstrated 
against  it  as  fatal  to  the  constitution.  Octavius  was  deposed  by 
a  majority  of  suffrages,  and  the  revival  of  tlie  Licinian  law  was 
carried  with  a  triumphant  hand. 

Stimulated  by  this  first  success,  the  zeal  of  Tiberius  now  medi- 
tated another  blow  against  the  aristocracy.  He  procured  a  law 
to  be  passed,  which  decreed  that  the  treasures  bequeathed  to  tht 
republic  by  Attalus,  king  of  Pergamus,  and  which  the  senate  had 
hitherto  administered  for  state  purposes,  should  be  fairly  accounted 
for  and  distributed  among  the  poorer  citizens  ;  and,  as  the  term  of 
his  own  tribunate  was  about  to  expire,  he  solicited  to  be  continued 
in  the  office  for  another  year,  that  he  might  bring  to  a  conclusion 
his  important  plan  of  reform. 

Even  the  populace  themselves,  who  had  hitherto  supported 
him,  were  aware  of  the  illegality  of  this  measure,  which  tended 
directly  to  establish  an  arbitrary  authority  in  the  state,  without  lim- 
itation of  period.  On  the  day  of  election  the  assembly  was  ill 
attended,  and  the  first  tribes  which  were  called  to  vote  gave  their 
suffrage  against  Tiberius.  His  friends  adjourned  the  assembly  til 
next  day  ;  and  in  the  interval  Tiberius  with  his  children  walked 


B      '      i^J  THE    GRACCHI  .197 

ine^  streets  in  mournlnf^,  requesting  protertion  from  the  people 
against  the  designs  of  the  patricians,  who,  as  he  said,  threatened 
his  life.  On  the  following  day  a  tumult  arose  in  the  assembly  of 
the  people,  between  the  opposite  parties.  The  senators  broke  up 
their  meeting,  and  repaired  in  a  body  to  the  forum,  followed  by  an 
immense  crowd  of  the  young  patricians  armed  with  clubs  and  staves, 
i  Derius,  apprehensive  of  his  danger,  endeavored  to  escape  with 
v»recipitation,  his  friends  following  his  example;  but  f:illin.'  down 
»n  the  throng,  he  was  assailed  by  many  hands,  and  slain  upon  the 
spot.  About  three  hundred  of  his  "followers  met  with  the  same 
fate,  and  their  dead  bodies  were  flung  into  the  Tyber. 

Whether  the  views  of  Tiberius  Gracchus  were  truly  disinter 
ested,  and  the  result  of  real  though  misguided  patriotism,  or 
whether  a  criminal  ambition  was  their  motive,  as  his  oj)ponen!s 
strongly  reported,  is  a  question  which  cannot  be  with  certainty 
resolved.  A  strong  presumption  against  him  arises  from  this  cir- 
cumstance, that  his  brother-in-law,  Scij)io  -^milianus,  and  his 
cousin  Scipio  Nasica,  who  was  actually  instrumental  in  his  death, 
were  of  the  latter  opinion.  Scipio  ^milianus,  a  man  of  strict 
virtue  and  enlightened  patriotism,  exerted  all  his  powers  to  quell 
those  dissensions  between  the  senate  and  people,  which  he  saw 
the  carrying  the  Licinian  law  into  execution  would  inevi(a!)ly  tend 
tc  exasperate  to  the  hazard  of  all  civil  order.  The  consc(juence 
of  his  generous  endeavors  was,  that  he  was  found  dead  in  his 
bed. 

Some  years  afterwards,  Caius  Gracchus,  unintimidatcd  by  his 
brother's  fate,  pursued  the  same  steps  which  had  brought  him  to 
destruction.  Being  elected  tribime,  he  took  every  measure  for  a 
strict  enforcement  of  the  Licinian  law,  which  hml  hiihcrto  been 
executed  with  great  remissness.  He  procured  the  revival  of  an 
obsolete  statute,  which  prohibit-^d  the  capital  punishment  of  any 
citizen  without  the  concurring  sanction  of  the  senate  and  jieople  ; 
and  with  the  view  of  extending  his  pojiiilarity  bfyoiid  the  bounds 
of  Rome,  he  proposed  a  law  by  which  the  right  of  citiz'-nship 
sh  Mild  be  conferred  on  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  Roman  territories 
within  the  bounds  of  Italy;  with  an  additional  enactment,  that 
whoever  claimed  the  right  of  citizen,  if  cast  by  the  censors,  might 
appeal  to  the  j)opular  asseniMy. 

These  measures,  as  may  be  supposed,  gave  great  disgust  to  the 
aristocracy,  who,  it  is  jilain,  were  at  this  time  the  real  supporters 
of  the  Roman  constitution.  But  the  measure  which  above  every 
other  tended  to  exasperate  the  senators  against  Caius,  was  an  in- 
quir}-  which  he  set  on  foot  into  the  corru|)iions  of  their  body,  in 
which  he  so  far  prevailed,  that  a  law  was  passed  depriving  that 
assembly  of  all  concern  in  the  administration  of  justice,  and  de- 
claring that  in  future  the  civil  jiidgcs  should  be  exclusively  clioscn 
from  the  oricr  of  knights;  an  act  which  the  senate  justly  regarded 


338  UNivEnsAi.  history.  [book  iv. 

not  only  as  a  deep  insult  lo  their  body,  but  as  a  fatal  blow   to   tlie 
constitution  of  the  state. 

In  the  view  of  conntcractinc;  these  most  daiigfrous  innovations, 
and  of  nndermining  the  )M)ucr  of  the  deniagogue,  the  party  of 
the  senate  and  patricians  set  up  Livius  Drusus,  a  young  man  of 
uncommon  abilities,  for  whom  they  procured  the  office  of  tribune, 
and  instructed  him  lo  supj)lant  the  influence  of  Caius  by  affecting 
a  stdl  more  ardent  zeal  for  the  popular  interest.  They  despatched 
Caius  at  the  same  time  on  a  mission  to  Africa  to  rebuild  the  city 
of  Carthage.  His  absence  diminished  the  number  of  his  parti- 
sans and  increased  those  of  Livius.  At  his  return,  he  thought  te 
regain  his  ground  by  soliciting  a  renewed  aj)poinlment  to  the  tribu- 
nate, but  was  mortified  by  a  rejection  of  his  pretensions.  Opi- 
iiiius,  a  man  whom  he  knew  to  be  his  determined  enemy,  was 
elected  to  the  consulate,  and  every  thing  tended  to  convince  him 
that  his  poj)ularity  was  fast  declining.  It  is  said  that  his  mother, 
Cornelia,  warned  him  in  passionate  terms  lo  escape,  by  a  change 
of  conduct,  ihe  fate  of  his  elder  brother;  but  he  was  deaf  to  her 
remonstrances.  In  a  meeting  of  the  Comitia,  his  partisans  having 
come  armed  to  the  forum,  a  tumult  ensued,  in  which  one  of  them 
stabbed  a  lictor  of  the  consul  with  his  poniard;  a  most  furious  con- 
flict followed,  in  which  Caius  Gracchus,  together  with  about  three 
thousand  of  the  popular  party,  were  massacred  in  the  streets  of 
Rome. 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  Gracchi,  men  endowed  by  nature  wiiL 
those  talents  which,  properly  directed,  might  have  conduced  to  the 
happiness  and  aggrandizement  of  their  country;  but  either  the  vie 
tims  of  a  criminal  ambition,  or  precipitated  by  an  intemperance  ot 
democratic  zeal  into  measures  subversive  of  all  civil  order,  the) 
perished  as  the  disturbers  of  the  public  peace. 

There  is  no  female  character  on  whom  the  ancient  writers  have 
lavished  more  praise  than  on  Cornelia,  the  mother  of  Gracchi,  ot 
whose  greatness  of  mind  under  the  severest  misfortunes  they 
speak  in  tei'ms  of  the  highest  eulogy.  She  had  ^een  the  funerals 
of  twelve  of  her  children,  the  last  of  whom  were  Tiberius  and 
Caius  Gracchus.  While  her  friends  were  lamenting  her  misfor- 
tunes, "Call  not  me  unfortunate,"  said  she;  "I  shall  never  cease 
to  think  myself  a  happy  woman,  who  have  been  the  mother  of 
(he  Gracchi."*  Imprudent  and  dangerous  for  themselves  as  she 
Tiust  have  thought  the  conduct  of  her  sons,  she  most  naturally 
leemed  it  the  result  of  real  virtue  and  patriotism.     Plutarch  in- 


*  "  Cornelia  duodecim  parttis  totidem  fiineribus  recogno'lt ;  et  de  cceteris  facile 
est,  quos  nee  editos  nee  amissos  civitas  sensit.  Tiberiuin  et  Caium  Gracclmni, 
quos  etiam  qui  bonos  viros  negaverit,  niatrnos  falebitur,  et  occisos  vidit  et  inse- 
pultos.  Consolanlibns  tamen,  miseramque  dicentibns.  nunquam,  inquit,  non  feli 
cein  ine  dicain  quce  Gracchos  peperi.'  — Senec.  C(  iisol.  ad  Marc  ,c.  16. 


B.   C.    111.]  JUGURTIIA.  533 

forms  us  that  she  spent  llie  remaining  years  of  her  life  in  a  \  illa, 
near  Misenum,  visited,  respected,  and  beloved  by  the  most  uuu- 
nent  men,  both  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  honon.-d  by  intercliang- 
ing  presents  even  with  foreign  princes.  Her  (•on\  ersaiion  was 
delightful  when  she  recounted  anecdotes  of  her  father  Africanus  . 
but  all  were  astonished  when  she  spoke  freely  of  her  sons,  «)| 
their  great  deeds  and  their  untimely  fate,  and  this  without  ever 
shedding  a  tear.  "  It  was  thought  by  some,"  continues  Plutarch, 
"that  the  pressure  of  age  and  misfortune  had  deadened  her  ma- 
ternal feelings  ;  but  they  (he  adds)  who  were  of  that  weak  opin- 
ion, were  ignorant  that  a  superior  mind,  enlightened  by  a  libenil 
education,  can  rise  above  all  the  calamities  of  life  ;  and  that  though 
fortune  may  sometimes  opjjress  virtue,  she  cannot  deprive  her  of 
that  serenity  and  resolution  which  never  forsake  her  in  the  day  of 
adversity." 

The  universal  corruption  that  now  prevailed  at  Rome  was  in 
nothing  more  conspicuous  than  in  a  celebrated  event  which  hap- 
pened at  this  time.  The  old  king  Massinissa,  whom  we  have 
mentioned  as  an  ally  of  the  Romans  at  the  time  of  the  first  inva- 
sion of  Africa  by  Scipio,  left  three  sons,  who  jointly  governed 
Numidia  ;  till,  by  the  death  of  his  brothers,  Mici[)sa  remauied  sole 
master  of  the  kingdom.  Tliis  prince,  tlioui;h  he  had  two  sons, 
Adherbal  and  Iliempsal,  adopted  his  nephew  Jugurtha,  a  young  man 
of  promising  talents,  whose  friendship  he  weakly  thought  to  secure 
for  his  cousins  by  giving  him  an  equal  share  with  them  of  his 
dominions.  No  sooner  was  Micipsa  dead,  than  this  ungrateful 
youth  resolved  to  attain  an  undivi(ied  empire  by  pulling  tiit-m  to 
death.  Iliempsal  was  his  first  victim;  and  Adherbal,  dn-ading  a 
similar  fate,  betook  himself  to  Rocue,  to  sue  for  justice  and  lo 
e'^reat  the  aid  and  protection  of  the  Romans,  to  whom  his  lather 
hd  rendered  his  kingdom  tributary.  But  ihe  money  of  Jugurilia 
hud  been  beforehand  with  him.  He  had  bribed  to  his  interest  h 
sufficient  party  in  the  senate  to  procure  a  reference  to  ten  commis- 
sioners, who  were  sent  into  Africa  w  ith  plenary  powers  to  decide 
between  the  contending  |)arties.  These,  by  similar  policy,  the 
traitor  won  to  his  interest  ;  so  that  they  declared  him  innocent  of 
the  charge,  and  decreed  lo  liim  the  sovereignty  of  one  half  of  Nu 
midia.  Jugurtha  now  |)ursued  his  schemes  for  the  dcstrut-tion  ol 
Adhei4jal,  and,  openly  declaring  war,  besieged  him  in  llie  town  of 
Cirtha.  The  Romans  sent  their  deputies  lo  put  a  slop  to  .such 
culpable  proceedings  ;  but  these,  like  the  foruier  commissioners, 
were  not  proof  against  corruption.  Adherbal  was  obligt-d  to  capit- 
ulate and  throw  himsiilf  on  the  mercy  of  Jugurtha,  by  wht)m  he  was 
immediately  put  to  death. 

These  (lagraut  enormities,  which  called  loud  for  vengeance,  con- 
tmued  yet  to  meet  with  shameful  palliation  in  the  Roman  senate  ; 
but  the  Roman  people  were  not  bribed  ;  and  iheir  cri«'s  for  jusiiro 
at    length    cwmpi  lied    the    rulers    of   the    republic   to   dcclaro   war 


3!)0  UNivKRSAr.  insToiiv.  (book  iv 

agaiiisi  Jugiirtlia.  In  llio  interval  of  a  tnice,  lliis  traitor  appeared 
in  pciisoii  at  Rome,  and  had  the  coiifideiice  to  justify  his  profood- 
ings  ill  full  seiialo  ;  where,  as  before,  he  had  so  lavishly  bestowed 
his  money  as  to  insure  his  acquittal.  A  conlinnaiicc,  however,  of 
the  same  conduct  excited  at  length  the  utmost  indignation  of  the 
Romans,  and  Melellus,  the  consul,  was  sent  against  him,  at  the 
head  of  a  large  army. 

Metellus  chose  for  his  lieutenant  the  celebrated  Marius,  a  man 
of  mean  birth,  who  possessed  great  military  talents  and  the  utmost 
personal  intrepidity,  but  wilii  a  total  want  of  every  generous  and 
virtuous  principle.  Instigated  by  ambition,  and  bound  by  no  ties 
of  gratitude  to  the  man  who  had  raised  him  from  obscurity,  he 
sought  leave  to  go  to  Rome,  and  there  represented  the  conduct  of 
Metellus  in  so  unfavorable  a  point  of  view,  and  talked  so  plausibly 
of  what  he  could  himself  have  done  in  the  same  situation,  that  he 
gained  the  people  to  his  interest,  was  elected  to  the  consulate,  and 
obtained  the  charge  of  prosecuting  the  war  against  Jugurtha. 
Metellus,  though  in  the  train  of  success,  being  thus  superseded, 
returned  to  Rome,  where  a  just  sense  of  his  services  prevailed 
over  every  injurious  impression,  and  he  was  decreed  the  honor  of 
a  triumph. 

But  JMarius  with  all  his  military  abilities,  was  obliged  to  employ 
treachery  to  finish  the  Jugurthan  war.  The  perfidious  character 
of  Jugurtha  justified,  as  he  thought,  a  similar  policy  in  his  enemy. 
Sylla,  then  acting  as  qua;stor  to  Marius,  seduced  Bocchus,  king  of 
Mauritania,  the  father-in-law  of  Jugurtha,  from  his  alliance  ;  and 
that  prince,  to  purchase  peace  with  the  Romans,  delivered  up 
Jugurtha  into  their  hands.  He  was  brought  to  Rome  in  chains, 
and»  after  gracing  the  triumph  of  Marius,  was  thrown  into  a  dun- 
geon and  starved  to  death. 

The  Romans  were  at  this  time  under  a  serious  alarm  from  the 
barbarous  nations,  who,  pouring  down  from  the  northern  parts  of 
Europe,  suddenly  made  their  appearance  in  a  countjess  host  e?eu 
upon  the  frontiers  of  Italy.  This  horde  of  savages,  who  were 
said  to  amount  to  more  than  300,000  men  in  arms,  attended  w  th 
their  women,  children,  and  cattle,  were  known  by  the  name  of 
Cimbri  ;  but  there  is  no  certainty  of  the  precise  country  from 
which  they  migrated.  The  consul  Papirius  Carbo  was  despatched 
to  Illyricum  to  oppose  their  progress,  but  with  inadequate  force ; 
for  they  overwhelmed  his  army  like  a  tempest.  They  fought  in  a 
dense  and  solid  mass,  of  which  the  foremost  ranks  were  chained 
together  by  their  girdles.  Had  this  torrent  forced  its  way  across 
the  Rhaetian  Alps  into  Italy,, it  is  hard  to  say  what  might  have 
been  the  fate  of  the  Roman  empire;  but  fortunately  they  chose 
a  different  course,  and  dissipated  the  alarm  for  a  time  by  passing 
onward  through  the  southern  Gaul  to  the  vicinity  of  the  Pyrenees. 

The  diversion  of  the  barbarous  Cimbri  to  the  quarter  of  Spain 
gave  only  a  temporary  respite  to  the  Roman  arms.     They  began 


E     C.    lOG.]  MAUIUS  33\ 

10  oveirim  the  Roman  Province  in  Gaul  in  separate  larze  l-odies, 
passing  from  the  southward  to  tlie  neighborhood  of  the  Rhine 
and  the  banks  of  the  Danube.  In  one  large  body,  they  poured 
down  b'f  the  passes  of  Carinihia,  or  the  valley  of  Trent,  to  joir 
another  detachment  on  the  banks  of  the  Po.  Marins,  now  in  his 
fourth  consulate,  had  for  his  special  department  the  province  of 
Gaul,  and  consequently  the  charge  of  opposing  these  invaders,  who, 
from  the  cautious  movements  of  the  Roman  army,  now  began 
to  insult  them  as  a  dastardly  foe  that  durst  not  meet  them  in  tho 
field.  Marins  signally  displayed  his  talents  as  a  general  by  attack- 
ing these  separate  divisions,  while  thi^y  had  spread  themselves  over 
the  country,  intent  solely  on  ravage  and  plunder.  In  one  cam- 
paign 200,000  of  the  barbarians  were  slain  in  the  field,  and  90,000 
taken  prisoners,  among  whom  was  Teutobocchus,  one  of  their 
kings.  In  another  engagement  on  the  Po,  the  remainder  of  this 
savage  horde  was  entirely  destroyed.  The  popularity  of  Marius, 
from  this  great  success,  procured  his  election  to  the  consulate  for 
the  fifth  time,  and  the  honors  of  a  triuni|)h. 

The  plunder  of  Jugurtha's  kingdom  brought  a  new  accession  of 
wealth  to  the  Romans.  They  now  found  not  only  their  ambition 
gratified  by  their  extensive  conquests,  but  their  appetite  for  luxury, 
which  was  daily  increasing.  We  have  seen  its  effects  in  that 
shameful  corruption  of  the  senate,  the  highest  order,  and  the  nat- 
tn'al  guardians  of  the  virtue  of  the  republic.  Yet  even  this  was 
but  the  dawning  of  that  profligacy  of  manners  and  of  principli^ 
which,  from  this  period,  we  shall  see  pervaded  all  ranks  of  the 
slate.  The  annals  of  the  Roman  republic  now  become  only  the 
history  of  the  loaders  of  dilTercnt  factions,  who  assuage  their 
avarice,  their  ambition,  and  revenge,  in  the  blood  of  their  fellow 
citizens. 

Livius  Drusus,  as  tribune  of  the  people,  involved  the  republic 
in  a  war  with  the  allied  states,  which  was  a  prelude  to  those  civil 
wars  which  ended  in  its  destruction.  This  tribune  renewed  the 
project  of  Cains  Gracchus  for  extending  to  tlv,;  allies  the  rights  of 
citizenship.  The  proposition  was  violently  combated;  the  allies 
contended  that  as  they  paid  their  taxes  to  the  state,  and  supplied 
in  war  a  great  proportion  of  the  legions,  it  was  but  just  they 
should  share  the  privileges  of  the  republic  as  well  as  its  burdens. 
On  the  other  hand  to  multiply  to  so  vast  an  extent  the  popular 
voles  in  the  Comitia,  and  thus  extend  the  field  of  corruption  and 
the  empire  of  tumult  in  all  the  public  proceedings,  appeared  to 
involve  the  most  ruinous  conse(|uences  to  the  state.  The  Roman 
populace  itself  dreaded  the  diminution  of  its  influence  by  this 
admixture  of  aliens;  *  and,   in  r(>aliiy,  the  measure  was    cordially 

*  The  number  of  Ronmn  citizens,  which,  at  the  lime  of  the  cenaiis  made  by 
Servius  TiiUiiis,  niiiouritcd  only  to  S'.^.OOO,  had  incn-nswd  al  ihc  nunmonrpmenl 
of  tiie  Social  war,  to  403,000  men  capable  of  bcariiijj  arms. — Uoauf^rt,  K*p 
Rom  1.  iv.  c.  4 


39:2  uNivKiisAL  nisTouY.  [book  iv 

suppurletl  only  by  l!ic  factions  and  anihilions  sj)iril  of  iJie  tribunes 
themselves.  In  ibis  slate  of  public  oj)inion,  tbc  fate  of  Drusus, 
who  was  stabbed  by  an  unknown  hand  while  silting  in  his  tribu- 
nal, excited  neither  alarm  nor  regret. 

But  the  allies  in  Italy  were  exasperated  by  the  opposition  to 
their  claims,  and  by  the  murder  of  their  champion.  The  principal 
states  entered  into  a  secret  league  for  arming  in  support  of  their 
pretens"ons,  while  a  formal  embassy  was  sent,  in  their  joint  name, 
to  demand  from  the  senate  and  people  of  Rome  what  they  repre- 
sented as  a  matter  of  right  and  justice.  The  senate,  apprized  of 
all  their  preparations,  sent  a  peremptory  refusal,  and  ordered  sev- 
eral legions  to  take  the  field  against  them,  nominally  headed  by 
the  consuls,  but,  in  reality  under  the  command  of  Marius,  Sylla, 
Pompey,  and  Crassus,  all  at  that  time  men  of  the  highest  military 
reputation.  But  even  under  these  able  generals,  the  success  of 
the  allies  in  many  severe  conflicts  was  such,  that  the  senate  thought 
it  prudent  to  listen  to  terms,  and  to  allow  the  privilege  of  citizen- 
ship to  the  inhabitants  of  such  of  the  states  as  should  lay  down 
their  arms  and  return  to  submission  and  allegiance.  These  con- 
cessions dissolved  the  league,  and  the  new  citizens  found,  after  all, 
that  their  coveted  privileges  were  of  very  little  consequence. 
The  senate  and  censors  formed  tliem  into  eight  now  tribes,  who  in 
the  Comitia  were  to  give  their  votes  last,  which  reduced  their 
influence  to  a  mere  trifle. 

§  This  war  between  Rome  and  her  allies,  thence  termed  the 
Social  war,  was  an  easy  preparative  for  that  which  followed 
between  her  own  citizens.  To  excite  a  civil  war  was,  in  the 
present  situation  of  things,  a  matter  of  no  great  difficulty.  It  was 
only  necessary  that  there  should  be  t-wo  rivals  in  the  path  of  ambi- 
tion equally  able  and  equally  intrepid;  and  such  men  were  Marius 
and  S}lla.  The  former,  we  have  seen,  had  raised  himself  from 
ooscuriiy  by  the  mere  force  of  talents.  Sylla  was  of  an  illustri- 
ous family;  he  had  all  the  talents  of  his  rival,  and  yet  more 
tinbounded  ambition;  his  manners  were  engaging;  he  had  acquired 
nnmcnse  wealth,  and  he  knew  how  to  employ  it  with  great  judg- 
ment in  rendering  himself  popular.  His  distinguished  military 
conduct  in  the  Social  war  increased  the  public  favor;  and  he  was 
elected  consul,  with  the  charge  of  prosecuting  a  war  in  Asi 
against  Mithridates,  king  of  Pontus. 

This  prince  had  given  the  Romans  the  highest  provocation. 
By  the  seizure  of  Bithynia  and  Cappadocia,  he  had  encroached 
on  the  tributary  states  of  the  republic;  he  had  seized  a  large  part 
of  Greece — and,  by  his  fleet  in  the  ^Egean  Sea,  had  taken  several 
ships  belonging  to  the  Romans.  He  had  likewise  authorized  a 
general  massacre,  in  one  day,  of  every  Roman  citizen  in  the  lesser 
Asia.  No  sooner,  however,  had  Sylla  taken  the  field,  than  the 
intrigues  of  his  rival  Marius,  and  of  Sulpitius,  a  tribune  of  the 
people  who  had  devoted  himself  to  the  interest  of  Marius,  pro- 


B     C.   88. J  MARIUS — SULPITIUS.  393 

r-i,ro,l  his  recall  wliile  still  within  the  limits  of  Italy.  II«'  learned 
at  the  same  time  that  some  of  his  kindred  haJ  been  murdered  at 
Rome  by  the  |)arty  of  his  enemies,  and  suspected  that  a  similar 
^te  was  intended  for  himself.  It  was  nccessar}',  therefore,  to 
form  a  bold  and  decisive  resolution.  His  army,  warmly  attached 
-o  their  leader,  had  received  the  order  for  his  recall  with  high 
mdignation.  In  an  animated  speech  to  his  troops  he  reminded  them 
ji  ihc  honors  they  had  won  under  his  command,  and  exposed  in 
strong  terms  the  malicious  and  sanguinary  designs  of  his  rival,  c.nd 
the  danger  which  such  proceedings  threatened  to  the  common- 
wealth itself.  He  found  the  army  disposed  to  implicit  obedience 
to  his  commands,  and  he  boldly  proposed  to  lead  them  on  to  Rome. 
"  Let  us  go,"  said  they,  with  one  voice;  "  lead  us  on  to  avenge 
the  cause  of  oppressed  liberty."  Sylla  accordingly  led  thetn  on, 
and  they  entered  Rome  sword  in  hand.  Marius  and  Sulpiiius 
fled  with  precipitation  from  the  city.  Sylla  restrained  his  army 
from  committing  any  outrage,  and  then,  with  great  deliberation 
and  without  a  shadow  of  opposition,  proceeded  to  annul  all  the 
laws  and  ordinances  which  had  passed  during  the  administration  of 
his  rival.  The  senate,  at  his  instigation,  then  |)ronounccd  a  decree 
which  proscribed  Maiius  and  Sulpitius  as  enemies  of  their  coun- 
try, whom  all  persons  were  required  to  pursue  and  put  to  death. 
The  consequence  was,  that  the  head  of  Sulpitius  was  soon  after 
sent  to  Rome.  Marius,  alone,  and  a  fugitive,  was  taken  in  the 
marshes  of  Minturna,  where  he  had  sought  concealment  by  plung- 
ing himself  up  to  the  chin  in  water.  He  was  sulfered  to  escape, 
and  got  over  into  Africa;  where  being  still  persecuted,  and  required 
by  the  Roman  governor  to  depart  from  the  |jrovince,  "  Go  (said 
he  to  the  messenger)  and  tell  thy  master  that  thou  hast  seen  Marius 
sitting  amidst  the  ruins  of  Carthage."  Plutarch,  who  relates  this 
anecdote,  says  that  Marius  meant  by  it  to  claim  the  compassion  of 
the  Roman  pra^or,  by  drawing  this  comparison  between  his  own 
lot  and  that  of  the  fallen  Carthage;  both  striking  examples  of  the 
instabilily  of  fortune.  Marius  then  retired  with  his  son  to  a  small 
island  on  the  African  ccjast,  w  here  he  soon  after  received  intelligenco 
that  a  strong  party  had  been  formed  at  Rome  in  his  favor,  where 
Cinna,  one  of  his  firmest  friends  and  partisans,  had  been  elected 
to  the  consulate. 

One  of  the  first  measures  of  the  new  consul  was  to  impeach 
Sylla  before  the  assembly  of  the  people.  It  was  a  law  of  the  state, 
that  any  man,  invested  with  a  military  command,  might  frustrate 
any  charge  brought  against  him  by  going  on  service.  Sylla  there- 
fore defeated  thepurposc  of  his  enemies  by  repairing  immediately 
to  his  army,  and  commencing  the  campaign  again>>t   Miilnidates. 

His   partisans    at   Rome,  in  the  meantime,  took  advantage  of  a 

series  of  violent  and  illegal   proceedings  of  Cinna,  (o   procure  his 

deposition   from  office,  and   his   expulsion  from  the  city.      Marius, 

returning  to  Italy  at  this  juncture,  found   means   to  levy   a  coiisid- 

voL.  I.  50 


591  UNIV'KKSAI.    insTOKV.  [lIUOK   IV 

enable  army,  and  joiiiing^  his  forces  to  those  of  Ciima,  lliey  laid 
siege  to  Rumo,  at  that  time  reduced  to  great  distress  by  famine. 
In  this  situation,  the  senate  capitulated  with  these  traitors  in  arms, 
repealed  the  attainder  of  Marius,  and  restored  Cinna  to  his  consu- 
lar funciioii.  They  entered  the  city  triuini)lianl]y  at  the  head  of 
tlie  army,  and  immediately  gave  orders  for  a  general  massacre  of 
all  those  citizens  whom  they  regarded  as  their  enemies.  'J'he 
scene  was  horrible  beyond  all  descrij)iion.  The  heads  of  the  sen- 
ators, streaming  with  blood,  were  stuck  up  before  the  rostra;  "a 
dumb  senate,  (says  an  ancient  writer,)  but  which  yet  cried  aloud 
to  Heaven  for  vengeance."  At  the  succeeding  election  of  magis- 
trates, Marius  and  Cinna  proclaimed  themselves  consuls  without 
the  formality  of  a  vote  of  the  people;  but  the  mind  of  Marius, 
ever  the  prey  of  turbulent  })assions,  which  he  sought  to  allay  by 
intemperate  drinking,  fell  a  victim  to  their  joint  efforts,  and  he 
died,  as  is  said,  in  a  fit  of  debauch. 

Sylla  in  the  meantime,  vviih  the  army,  had  contributed  to  the 
glory  of  the  republic  by  putting  an  end  to  the  war  with  Mithri- 
dates.  This  very  prince  had  conceived  the  proud  design  of 
wresting  all  Asia,  together  with  Greece,  from  the  dominion  of  the 
Romans;  but  the  loss  of  two  great  battles  at  Chaeronea  and  Orch- 
omenos  put  an  end  to  his  prospects  of  ambition,  and  forced  him  to 
conclude  a  humiliating  peace.  "  Sylla,"  says  Velleius  Patercu- 
lus,  "deserved  censure  for  many  things;  but  one  thing  was  meri- 
torious— he  left  his  private  interest  neglected  till  he  had  finished 
his  war  against  the  enemies  of  Rome."  His  own  revenge  was 
his  real  object;  and  a  dreadful  revenge  it  was. 

On  returning  to  Rome,  he  found  the  consuls  Carbo  and  Norba- 
nus  (for  Cinna  was  now  dead)  with  above  200,000  men  in  arms  to 
oppose  him:  but  he  was  beloved  by  the  soldiers,  and  he  had 
address  enough  to  seduce  a  whole  consular  army,  with  Cethegiis, 
Verres,  and  the  young  Pompey,  to  join  themselves  to  his  party. 
With  this  powerful  reinforcement  he  entirely  defeated  the  consuls, 
and  prepared  now  to  act  a  part  apparently  contrary  to  every  for- 
mer indication  of  his  nature.  There  cannot  be  a  doubt  that  mur- 
der is  a  contagious  disease  ;  that  with  the  first  shedding  of  blood 
the  nature  is  infuriated,  and  the  wretch  once  imbrued  in  it  rushes 
on  with  enthusiasm  to  the  most  atrocious  cruelties.  Sylla  had 
now  caught  the  contagion.  He  ordered  6000  men  to  be  massacred 
in  cold  blood,  who,  on  promise  of  their  lives,  had  laid  down  their 
arms.  His  proscriptions  were  dreadful  beyond  all  example. 
Every  day  produced  a  new  catalogue  of  those  who  were  doomed 
to  destruction  ;  he  declared  that  he  would  not  spare  an  enemy 
whom  he  had  in  Italy.  The  punishment  did  not  stop  at  the  sup- 
posed offenders  :  their  family  and  posterity  to  the  third  generation 
vveie  declared  infamous,  and  incapable  of  enjoying  any  office  in 
the  state  ;  a  proof  that  tyrannic  cruelty  is  blind  to  consequences 
and  ^uspects  not  how  short-lived,  from  the  very  nature  of  things 


D.  C.  79  ]  SYLLA.  396 

Its  empire  must  necessarily  be.  It  was  amidst  these  horrid  scenes 
that  the  aba':doned  Caiiline  first  gratified  that  i)rofiia;ate  ai)d  sav- 
age disposition  which  afterwards  aimed  at  the  general  ieiiructioa 
of  the  state. 

S}lla  was  now  without  a  rival  in  authority,  and  ahsohite  maiter 
of  the  government,  which,  therefore,  properly  speaking,  \sas  no 
onger  a  rcpuhlic  ;  yet  he  chose  to  recur  to  the  pojjuiar  authority 
in  order  to  establish  himself  in  power,  and  he  was  nominated  in 
tlie  Comitia,  dictator  for  an  unlimil  d  space  of  time. 

He  was  now  secure,  and  seemed  to  turn  his  ihoiighis  to  tl  e  res- 
toration of  order  and  tranquillity  in  the  stale.  He  restored  the 
senate  to  its  judicial  power,  of  which,  for  a  considi'rable  lime,  it 
had  been  deprived.  He  published  severe  laws  against  nuu"der  and 
oppression  ;  he  regulated  the  election  to  the  high  oflices  of  pra'tor, 
quaistor,  and  tribune  ;  prohibiiing,  with  regard  to  the  last,  that  any 
tribunes  of  the  people  should  be  chosen  unless  from  the  body  of 
the  senators,  and  enacting  that  their  election  to  that  function  should 
preclude  for  ever  their  attaining  to  a  higher  iligniiy.  This  regu- 
lation edectually  prevented  that  once  enviable  ollice  from  being 
any  longer  an  object  of  ambition. 

Having  made  these  prudent  and  salutary  reforms,  Sylla  look 
another  step  which  excited  universal  surprise  : — lie  resigned  the 
dictatorship.  The  man  who  had  destroyed  above  a  hundred 
thousand  of  his  fellow  citizens — who,  in  the  course  of  his  pro- 
scriptions, had  put  to  death  about  ninety  senators  and  above  2f)00 
Roman  knights — had  courage  to  resign  the  absolute  authority  he 
had  acquired,  to  become  a  private  citi/en,  and  to  otlV'r  to  give  an 
accoimt  to  the  public  of  his  conduct.  But  he  had  gained  parti-^ans 
to  his  interest  more  powerful,  if  not  so  numerous  as  his  enemies. 
The  senate  were  his  friends  ;  because,  by  his  late  regulations,  ho 
had  restored  to  that  body  a  great,  part  of  its  ancient  dignity  ;  and 
bad  ever  stood  forth  the  su|)porter  of  their  order  against  .Marius, 
who  was  the  champion  of  the  people.  The  patricians  saw,  wiUi 
pleasure,  that  they  were  once  more  considered  as  the  superior 
rank  in  the  state.  In  these  resj)ecls,  Sylla  professed  himself  the 
friend  of  the  ancient  constitution  of  his  country  ;  and  as  such,  in 
spite  of  all  his  atrocities,  he  has  been  regarded  by  the  most  en- 
lightened historians.  He,  therefore,  had  a  j)owerful  party  who 
approved  of  his  political  conduct ;  and  above  all,  he  was  the  dol 
of  the  army,  who  had  all  along  profited  by  his  measures  and 
gained  by  his  indulgence ;  he  had  given  freedom  to  ten  ihousn!nl 
slaves,  and  had  gratified  by  rewards  all  his  partisans.  These  were 
ills  guardians,  and  enabled  him  to  wulk  with. the  security  of  an 
innocent  man  in  that  city  which  lie  hml  deluged  with  blood.  .Sy||.i, 
however,  did  not  long  survive  his  change  of  state.  Ple.Kine  and 
debauchery  l)rought  on  him  a  loathsome  dise.isc,  of  which  he  dii'd. 
He  was  certainly  a  man  of  great  strength  of  mind,  and  had  -soitie 
of  the  qualities  of  an  heroic  character;  but  he  lived  in  evil  times, 
wnen  it  was  impossible  at  once  to  be  great  ami  to  be  virtuous. 


596  uNivr.iisAr,  iiistuhy.  [hook  n 

On  Uic  dealli  of  Sylla,  the  civil  war  began  anew.  Ii('|)i(Iu3 
the  consul,  asjjiring  at  similar  domin  >n,  but  a  man  of  no  abilities, 
levied  a  large  army,  and,  on  the  pretence  of  restoring  the  forfeited 
estates  to  tliose  whom  Sylla  had  driven  into  banishment  by  his 
proscriptions,  openly  proclaimed  his  purpose  of  annulling  all  i1k)  late 
political  regulations.  The  senate  justly  took  the  alarm;  ♦^  atulus 
and  Pompey  were  invested  with  authority  to  provide  for  the  safety 
of  the  republic,  and  immediately  taking  the  Geld  with  a  su|)erior 
force,  Lepidus  sustained  two  defeats,  and  took  shelter  in  Sardinia, 
where  he  died. 

It  was  now  that  Pompey  began  to  distinguish  himself.  He  had 
already,  with  no  other  command  than  as  the  general  of  an  army 
attained  to  the  reputation  of  possessing  great  talents  by  his  victories 
over  the  Marian  party  in  Africa,  Sicily,  and  Italy.  Sertorius  was 
the  head  of  that  party  in  Spain,  where  his  civil  and  military  abili- 
ties had  gained  him  the  highest  popularity.  Metellus  and  Pompey 
confessed  their  inability  to  subdue  this  formidable  partisan  in  the 
field,  by  meanly  setting  a  prize  upon  his  head.  This  policy  was 
successful ;  it  drew  off  Perpenna  from  his  interest,  who  had 
hitherto  supported  his  cause.  The  traitor  invited  his  friend  to  a 
banquet,  and  a  hired  assassin  stabbed  him  amidst  the  tumult  of 
festivity.  The  party  of  Sertorius  was  undone  by  the  death  of  its 
leader ;  and  Pompey,  returning  to  Romel  had  the  honors  of  a 
triumph. 

Mithridates,  king  of  Pontus,  was  earnestly  bent  upon  recovering 
those  possessions  in  Asia  of  which  the  Romans  had  deprived  him. 
Lucullus,  a  very  able  general,  was  entrusted  with  the  conduct  of 
the  war  against  him.  He  defeated  Mithridates  in  two  engage- 
ments, and  recovered  Bithynia.  Meantime  MithridStes  had  sent 
a  fleet  to  Italy  to  support  the  rebellion  of  Spartacus,  who  was 
carrying  on  war  against  the  republic  at  the  head  of  forty  thousand 
slaves,  and  had  defeated  an  army  commanded  by  two  prfPtors,  and 
nother  headed  by  both  the  consuls.  This  rebellion  Pompey  had 
he  credit  of  subduing  ;  although,  in  fact,  the  victory  which  cost 
Spartacus  his  life  was  achieved  by  Crassus,  before  Pompey 's  ai'- 
rival.  In  the  following  year,  Pompey  and  Crassus  were  elected 
consuls,  and  the  latter,  by  his  splendid  festivals  and  shows,  acquir- 
ed with  the  people  a  high  measure  of  popularity.  Lucullus  had 
now  compelled  Mithridates  to  retreat  to  Armenia,  and  the  kingdom 
of  Pontus  submitted  to  the  Roman  arms. 

Lucullus  now  marched  against  Mithridates  and  Tigranes,  and 
had  the  honor  of  signally  defeating  their  united  forces ;  but  it 
was  his  misfortune  .or  his  blame  to  become  unpopular  with  his 
army,  and  in  the  next  engagement  the  Pontic  king  gained  an 
important  victory.  The  consequence  was,  that  his  enemies  at 
Rome  accused  him  of  protracting  the  war  from  motives  of  interest. 
Pompey,  who  secretly  wished  to  supplant  him  in  bis  command, 
.•rocured  some  of  his  friends,  among  whom  were  Julius  Ctcsar  a'^'' 


B     C.    63. J  MITHRIDATIC    WAR.  391 

Cicero,  to  propose  that  he  should  supersede  LucuHus,  and  a  decree 
was  obtained  to  that  effect.  When  the  intelligence  was  brought 
to  Pompey  he  feigned  the  utmost  surprise.  The  rival  generals 
tame  to  an  interview  in  Galatia,  which  passed  in  mutual  reproaches. 
"  It  is  your  policy,"  said  Lucullus,  "to  triumph  over  an  enemy 
whom  another  has  already  subdued,  and  thus  to  gailier  laurels 
which  you  have  not  won." — "And  you,"  said  Pompey,  "covet 
victory  solely  for  the  sake  of  plunder,  and  ravage  countries  only 
to  fill  your  coffers."  Both  reproaches  had  some  foundation  in 
truth.  Pompey  prosecuted  the  war  against  Miiliridates,  and  soon 
compelled  his  ally  Tigranes  into  terms  of  unconditional  submission. 
In  the  following  campaign  he  put  an  end  to  the  dominion  of  Mi- 
thridates.  One  of  that  prince's  concubines  treacherously  surren- 
dered to  the  Roman  general  a  capital  fortress  of  the  kingdom  ;  and 
Miihridates  soon  after,  seeing  his  fortunes  desperate,  had  recourse 
to  a  voluntary  death.  Pontus  and  Syria  were  then  reduced  to  the 
condition  of  provinces  of  the  Roman  empire. 

On  the  return  of  Lucullus  to  Rome,  his  acknowledged  services 
procured  him  the  honor  of  a  triumph;  and  he  passetl  the  remainder 
of  his  life  in  luxurious  retirement.  Fond  at  the  same  time  of 
study,  and  of  the  conversation  of  the  most  ingenious  and  polite 
men  of  his  time,  he  spent  whole  days  with  ihom  in  his  library  and 
gardens,  which  were  open  to  all  the  learned  men  of  Rome  and 
Greece.*  If  any  thing  can  be  said  to  vindicate  that  excess  to 
which  he  carried  the  luxury  of  the  table,  it  is  that  his  higher 
morals  were  irreproachable  ;  and  voluptuary  as  he  was,  he  had 
yet  a  higher  pleasure  in  acts  of  humanity  and  beneficence. 

While  Pompey  was  thus  emplo}'ed  in  Asia,  a  most  dangerous 
conspiracy  threatened  the  entire  destruction  of  Rome.  Lucius 
Sergius  Catilina,  we  have  already  observed,  had  been  one  of  the 
ministers  of  the  cruelties  of  Sylla.  He  was  a  youth  of  a  noble 
family,  but  with  a  character  stained  with  every  manner  of  crime. 
While  Sylla  was  dictator,  he  had  risen  to  considerable  honors  :  he 
had  been  quaestor,  and  had  held  a  command  in  Africa  as  prator  ; 
but  his  vices  disgraced  these  sjjlendid  emi)loyments,  and  the  wraith 
which  he  acquired  by  rapine  and  extortion  he  consumed  in  the 
most  infamous  debaucheries.  Foiled  in  his  design  of  obtaining  iho 
consulate  for  himself  and  his  friend  Piso,  he  first  determineil  to 
wreak  his  vengeance  on  the  more  successful  candidates,  Coiia  and 
Torquatus;  and  this  his  first  conspiracy,  which  was  to  begin  by 
the  murder  of  these  magistrates  and  all  their  |)artisans  among  the 
.senate,  appears  to  have  failed  of  success  moie  from  the  want  of 
concerted  measures  in  the  cons|iirators  themselves,  than  from  the 
vigilance  of  the   sovereign   power  of  the  slate.     The   disappoint- 


*  Soe  Plutarch  in  Vit.  I-uriil.   who  (li-tnil!>  nt  considcrablo  Icnpth  the  hixuri- 
0U8  Ufe  of  this  ci'lohratcd  lloinan. 


.'^98  IJNIVKKSAI.     IIISTOIIV.  [fiOOK    IV 

ment  of  lliis  design*  scrvod  only  to  slimnlnte  his  daring  and  ma- 
lignant s))ii-it  to  enterprises  of  greater  danger  and  atrocity.  Lost 
in  character,  drowned  in  dcht,  and  thence  iinaljle  to  fintl  any  other 
resource  for  the  support  of  his  vices  and  debaucheries,  he  now 
^formed  the  desperate  scheme  of  extirpating  the  uiiole  body  of  tho 
senate,  of  assassinating  all  the  magistrates  of  the  commonwealth, 
and  satiating  his  avarice  and  ambition  by  the  command  of  the  re- 
pijiblic  and  the  plunder  of  the  city. 

Catiline  gained  to  his  interest  the  profligate  of  all  ranks  and  de- 
naninations  ;  knights,  patricians,  and  senators,  who  were  desperate 
bankrupts,  and  some  high-born  women  of  intriguing  and  abandoned 
character,  helped  to  increase  his  parly.  To  facilitate  the  execu 
tion  of  his  designs,  he  once  more  solicited  the  consulship,  but  was 
again  disappointed,  from  the  known  infamy  of  his  character.  The 
illustrious  Cicero  was  elected  to  that  office.  Happy  for  the  re- 
public that  in  those  perilous  times  she  had  this  great  man  for  her 
guardian  and  protector!  He  had  for  his  colleague  Caius  Antonius, 
a  weak  and  indolent  man,  who  left  to  him  all  the  burden,  and  con- 
sequently all  the  honor,  of  the  administration. 

In  the  meantime,  Catiline  had  brought  his  plot  to  maturity. 
Troops  were  levied,  arms  provided,  a  distinct  department  and  func- 
tion was  assigned  to  each  of  the  princi])al  conspirators,  and  a  day 
was  fixed  for  the  commencement  of  operations  in  the  heart  of  Rome. 
The  city  was  to  be  set  fire  to  in  a  hundred  different  quarters  at  once; 
the  consuls  were  to  be  assassinated ;  and  an  immense  list  was 
prepared  of  the  chief  citizens  who  were  doomed  to  instantaneous 
destruction.  A  plot  of  this  nature,  in  which  so  many  were  con- 
cerned, could  not  long  be  kept  secret.  Fulvia,  a  woman  of  loose 
character,  the  mistress  of  one  of  the  conspirators,  probnbly  gained 
by  the  spies  of  Cicero,  gave  notice  to  the  consuls  of  the  whole 
plan  of  the  conspiracy.  The  senate  passed  that  powerful  decree 
which  armed  the  consuls  with  dictatorial  authority  for  the  safety 
of  the  republic;!  ^"^  Cicero  under  this  ample  warrant  might, 
perhaps,  without  challenge  of  exceeding  his  powers,  have  seized 
the  traitor,  and  put  him  instantly  to  death.  But  he  wished  to 
discover  his  numerous  accomplices,  and  thus  effectually  to  ex- 
tinguish the  conspiracy.  We  are  astonished  when  we  read  that 
animated  oration  of  Cicero,  the  first  against  Catiline  ;  and  know 
that  the  traitor  had  the  audacity  to  sit  in  the  senate-house  while 
it  was  delivered,  and  while  every  man  of  worth  or  regard  for  char- 
acter deserted  the  bench  on  which  he  sat,  and  left  him  a  spectacle 
to  the  whole  assembly.  We  are  equally  astonished  when  we 
learn  that  he  was  suffered  still  to  remain  at  liberty  ;  nay,  to  leave 


*  or  this  first   conspiracy  of  Catiline,  the  accounls    of  tlie  Roman  historiani 
we  extremely  imperfect  and  confused. 

t  Dent  opcram  consulcs  ne  quid  respublica  detrimenti  capiat. 


B.    C.   G2.1  CO.VSPIRACV     OF     CATI1.1NE.  3f)9 

Rome  and  to  appear  at  the  head  of  an  :irmy  in  open  rebellion.  IJut 
it  was  one  peculiarity  of  the  Roman  coniiitmion,  during  the  rejnib- 
lic,  that  the  laws  did  not  allow  the  deteniion  of  aixused  persons  in 
order  to  trial.  A  citizen,  accused  of  whatever  crime,  continued  at 
full  liberty  till  judgment  was  pronounced  against  him,  and  might, 
if  he  foresaw  the  issue  of  the  trial,  withdraw  himself  from  Rnjne  as 
a  voluntary  exile. 

A  remarkable  circumstance,  showing  the  extent  of  this  formi- 
dable conspiracy,  was  now  brought  to  Iiii;jit.  The  ambassadors 
of  the  Allobroges  having  fruitlessly  aj)plied  to  the  Roman  senate 
for  a  redress  of  grievances,  Publius  Leniulus,  the  prx'K^r,  gave 
them  assurance  in  private,  of  protection  and  favor,  provided  they 
woidd  return  to  their  province,  and  dispose  their  countrymen  to 
arm  in  sujjport  of  a  powerful  party,  which,  he  aflirmcd,  would 
soon  have  the  command  of  the  republic.  Of  this  negotiation 
C'cero  received  intelligence.  The  consul,  with  infinite  prudence, 
instructed  his  informant  to  encourage  the  correspondence  between 
Leniulus  and  the  ambassadors,  and  to  urge  the  latter  to  demand 
from  Lentulus  a  list  of  the  names  of  all  his  partisans,  in  order  to 
show  to  their  countrymen  the  number  and  power  of  those  friends 
on  whose  protection  they  might  depend,  if  they  armed  in  support 
of  this  great  revolution  in  the  state.  Lentulus  fell  into  the  snare 
that  was  laid  for  him.  He  gave  a  list  of  the  names  of  all  concern- 
ed in  the  conspiracy  of  Catiline  to  the  amha-isadors,  who,  setting 
out  upon  their  journey,  were  waylaid,  and  their  desi)atche3  seized 
by  order  of  the  consul.  Cicero  had  now  in  his  hands  the  most 
complete  evidence  against  the  whole  of  the  conspirators.  Assem- 
bling the  senate,  he  produced  first  the  written  evidence,  consisting 
of  letters,  under  the  hands  of  the  cjiief  partisans  of  Catiline,  to- 
gether with  lists  of  arms,  and  the  places  where  iliey  were  lieposit- 
ed  ;  as  well  as  separate  instructions  for  the  readv  co/iperation  of 
the  dillerent  leaders  in  their  distinct  departments  of  the  plot.  Tho 
deputies  of  the  Allobroges  were  produced  before  the  senate, 
and  made  no  scruple  to  confirm  the  proof  arising  from  those  docu- 
ments. 

It  remained  for  the  senate  to  determine  what  course  was  to  bo 
pursued  with  these  detected  traitors;  and  the  difibrcnce  of  opinion 
which  prevailed  on  that  subject  allorded  a  strong  criterion  of  the 
alarming  extent  of  this  atrocious  design,  and  the  influence  of  those 
who  secretly  favored  it.  Silanus,  the  consul  elect,  j)roposed  an 
immediate  sentence  of  death  on  the  whole  of  the  conspirators. 
His  opinion  was  powerfiilly  combated  by  Julius  Caisar,  who  main- 
tained that  tlie  confiscation  of  their  estates,  and  the  commiiial  of 
:heir  persons  in  charge  to  some  of  the  best  aflectiMl  of  the  Italian 
communities,  was  as  efiec'.ual  a  curb  to  their  d(;signs,  and  moro 
af^reeable  to  law  than  capital  punishment.  Cicero,  without  de- 
hvering  any  opinion,  painted  in  strong  colors  the  niH-cs^iiy  of  an 
immediate   and  powerful  antidote  to  prevent  the  utter  ruin  of  the 


400  UMVLllSAI,    IIISTOllY.  [rOOK   IV 

State,  and  declared  tliat  lie  would  execute  the  orders  of  the  senate 
whatever  they  slujuld  be,  at  the  hazard  of  his  own  life.  Calo 
closed  the  del)ate  by  observing  that  the  vote  of  that  night  would 
seal  the  fate  of  Rome,  and  convince  her  intestine  enemies  whedier 
their  party  or  the  guardians  of  the  rej)ublic  were  to  prevail  in  this 
awful  conflict.  lie  concluded  by  voting  for  the  immediate  execu- 
tion of  all  the  conspirators  already  in  custody,  and  a  vigorous  effort 
for  the  extermination  of  the  rebel  and  his  army  then  in  the  field. 
This  opinion  preva.  ed,  and  was  immediately  carried  into  eflect. 
Leniulus  and  his  accomplices  were  the  same  day,  without  form  of 
trial,  strangled  in  prison  by  the  consul's  warrant. 

An  army,  headed  by  Antonius,  now  took  the  field   against  Cat- 
iline.    He   came    up   widi  him   in  the  neighborhood   of  Fesulae 
The  rebel  made  a  desperate  defence;   but,  overpowered   by  num 
bers,  he  threw  himself,  whh  frantic  courage,  into  the  midst  of  the 
enemy,  and  died  a  better  death  than  his  crimes  merited. 

Among  the  many  who  had  incurred  some  suspicion  of  sharing 
in  the  guilty  designs  of  Catiline  was  Julius  Csesar.  This  young 
man,  the  son-in-law  of  Cinna,  was  of  a  most  illustrious  patrician 
family.  The  companions  of  his  youth  had  known  him  only  as  a 
fop  and  a  debauchee  ;  but  pleasure  and  effeminacy  were  the  as 
sumed  disguises  of  a  daring  and  ambitious  spirit.  SyJla,  who  was 
an  excellent  judge  of  human  nature,  had  even  penetrated  into  his 
real  character,  and  numbered  him  among  the  proscribed.  "  There 
is  many  a  Marius  (said  he)  in  the  person  of  that  young  man." 
Caesar,  aware  of  the  dangerous  consequences  of  these  suspicions, 
quitted  Rome,  and  did  not  return  thither  till  after  Sylla's  death. 
He  became  more  circumspect  in  his  conduct,  and  learned  the  better 
to  conceal  his  designs,  till  the  proper  opportunity  of  bringing  them 
into  action.  Meantime  he  courted  the  people,  and  was  high  in 
their  favor  before  he  accepted  any  office  in  the  state.  His  larges- 
ses had  gained  a  great  party  to  his  interest,  though  they  ruined  his 
private  fortune ;  and  when  he  was  created  iEdile,  it  was  generally 
believed  he  was  in  indigent  circumstances ;  yet  the  games  and 
spectacles  which  he  exhibited  surpassed  every  thing  hitherto  seen 
in  magnificence. 

At  the  time  when  Pompey  returned  from  his  Asiatic  expedition, 
C«sar  held  the  office  of  pra?tor.  The  ambitious  spirit  of  Pompey 
could  brook  neither  a  superior  nor  an  equal.  Crassus,  a  man  of 
mean  talents,  but  of  a  restless  and  ambitious  spirit,  had,  by  means 
of  his  enormous  wealth,  gained  a  very  considerable  party  to  his  in- 
terest ;  for  money  at  Rome  could  always  insure  popularity,  and 
thus  render  even  the  weakest  of  men  formidable  to  tl;e  liberties  of 
their  country.  Thus,  with  the  greatest  inequality  of  talents,  Pom- 
pey and  Crassus  were  rivals  in  the  path  of  ambition  ;  and  Cassar, 
who  at  this  time  aspired  to  the  consulate,  and  was  well  aware  that, 
by  courting  exclusively  either  of  these  rivals,  he  infallibly  made  the 
other  his  enemy,  showed  the  reach  of  his  political  genius  by  art- 


B     C.  59.]  JLT.l'JS    CESAR.  401 

fully  effecting  a  reconciliation  between  them,  and  tinis  seruriii;  the 
friendship  of  both.  Cato  foresaw  the  fatal  cnnseqwences  of  this 
union  of  interests,  which  was  termed  ihe  Trimnrirate,  and  he 
openly  prognosticated  the  ruin  of  the  republic.  In  the  nieantune 
Caesar,  by  their  joint  interest,  obtained  the  consulate,  and  greatly 
increased  his  popularity  by  procuring  a  new  agrarian  law  to  be 
passed,  which  authorized  the  division  of  certain  lands  in  Campa- 
nia among  20,000  of  the  poorer  citizens,  who  had  at  least  thr'je 
children. 

It  is  not  a  little  surprising  that  a  measure  of  this  kind,  so  con- 
trary to  all  good  policy,  should  be  so  frc(iuently  proposed  and 
adopted  in  the  Roman  commonwealth.  On  this  subject  the  reflej- 
lions  of  Dr.  Ferguson  are  most  judicious  : — "  In  great  and  popu- 
lous cities,  indigent  citizens  are  ever  likely  to  be  numerous,  and 
would  be  more  so  if  the  idle  and  profligate  were  taught  to  hope 
for  bounties  and  gratuitous  provisions  to  quiet  their  clamors  and  to 
suppress  their  disorders.  If  men  were  to  have  estates  in  the  coun- 
try because  they  are  factious  and  turbulent  in  the  city,  it  is  evident 
that  public  lands,  and  all  the  resources  of  the  most  |iros|)erous 
state,  would  not  be  sufficient  to  supply  their  wants.  Commission- 
ers appointed  for  the  distribution  of  such  public  favors  would  be 
raised  above  the  ordinary  magistrates,  and  above  the  laws  of  their 
country.  They  might  reward  their  own  creatures,  and  keep  the 
citizens-  in  general  in  a  state  of  dependence  on  their  will.  The 
authors  of  such  proposals,  while  they  are  urging  the  state  and  the 
people  to  ruin,  would  be  considered  as  their  only  patrons  and 
friends.  'It  is  not  the  law  I  dread,'  said  Cato;  'it  is  the  reward 
expected  for  obtaining  it.'  "*  These  reflections  are  so  obviously 
the  dictates  of  good  sense,  that  even  the  wildest  demagogue  must 
admit  their  force  :  and  hence  we  are  furnished  with  a  just  criterion 
to  appreciate  the  real  characters  of  the  proposers  of  such  measures, 
and  to  unmask  the  mock  patriotism  of  such  men  as  Cassius,  the 
Gracchi,  and  Julius  Caesar. 

Ca-sar,  in  order  to  strengthen  his  interest  with  Pompey,  gave 
him  his  daughter  in  marriag(?.  He  had  now  attained  to  that  hcii^ht 
of  consideration  with  the  people,  that  the  senate  was  completely 
intimidated,  and  durst  not  oppose  him;  a  strong  proof  of  which  wa?-. 
given  by  the  passing  of  a  law  by  which  the  senators  look  a  s'>|. 
emn  oath  not  to  op})ose  any  measure  that  should  be  determined  in 
a  popular  assembly  during  his  consulate.  He  gave  the  government 
of  the  provinces  to  his  chief  partisans,  and  took  for  himself  those 
of  Cisal))ine  and  Transalpine  Gaul  and  Illyria  for  five  years,  togeihor 
with  the  command  of  four  legions.  The  legion  consisted  at  this 
time  of  about  4,000  men. 

Among  the  men  whom  Caesar  most  dreaded  was  Cicero.      lie 


*  Ferguson's  Rom.  Rep  ,  vol   ii.  p.  111.     ^vo.  odit. 
VOL.   I.  51 


402  UMVKRSAI,    HISTOIIY.  [dOOK   IV 

knew  liiiii  to  1)1'  a  triK-  patriot,  a  real  friend  of  liis  country  and  its 
constittilion,  and  llicrcfore  an  enemy  to  all  usurpation  of  a  prepon 
derating  power  in  the  state.*  He  therefore  beheld  in  him  the 
greatest  obstacle  to  his  own  ambitious  designs,  and  resolved  to  ac- 
complish his  ruin.  Cicero  was  aware  of  his  own  danger,  and 
th'Mcfore  had  for  some  time  declined  all  share  in  the  offices  of  state; 
while  his  high  character  and  en)inent  public  services  procured  him 
the  esteem  of  every  man  of  virtue.  But  such  were  not  the  pre- 
vailing party  in  the  republic,  cither  in  point  of  influence  or  num- 
bers; for  the  populace  ever  bestowed  their  favor  on  those  who  best 
paid  their  court,  and  ministered  most  largely  to  their  avarice  and 
love  of  pleasure.  Clodius,  a  mortal  enemy  of  Cicero,  was  pitched 
on  by  CiTsar  as  his  fittest  instrument  to  accomplish  the  ruin  of  this 
illustrious  man.  By  Caesar's  influence,  Clodius  was  chosen  one  of 
the  tribunes  of  the  people,  and  was  no  sooner  in  office  than  he  pro- 
posed various  laws  which  tended  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  peo- 
ple, and  at  the  same  time  secure  the  favor  of  the  chiefs  of  the 
republic.  He  procured  the  passing  of  an  act  for  remitting  the 
debts  due  by  the  poorer  class  for  corn  bought  from  the  public  gra- 
naries; and  another  for  the  restoring  and  increasing  the  number  of 
public  corporations,  which  had  been  abolished  on  account  of  the 
tmbulence  and  faction  of  which  they  were  the  seminaries.  He 
gained  much  influence  with  the  senate  by  a  regulation  for  abridging 
the  power  of  the  censors  in  purging  that  order;  and  finally  lie  pro- 
posed a  law  which  made  it  a  high  offence  to  condenni  or  put  to 
death  any  citizen  before  he  had  been  judged  by  the  people.  ■  This 
important  law  was  evidently  levelled  at  Cicero,  who,  by  his  au- 
thority as  consul,  warranted  indeed  by  a  decree  of  the  senate,  had 
condemned  Catiline's  accomplices  to  death — a  measure  which  the 
necessity  of  the  times  and  the  imminent  peril  of  the  republic  had 
justified  in  the  opinion  of  all  good  men. 

Cicero,  with  all  his  high  qualities,  was  of  a  weak  and  pusillan- 
imous spirit.  Instead  of  manfully  endeavoring  to  avail  himself 
of  the  great  and  essential  services  which  he  had  rendered  his  coun- 
try, sufficient  to  insure  him  the  support   of  every  good  citizen,  in 


The  first  occasion  on  which  Cicero  distinguished  himself  <as  an  orator,  was  one 
r>f  jrreat  difficult}'  and  delicacy,  tlie  defence  of  Roscias,  who,  during  the  time  of 
Sylla's  horrible  proscriptions,  had  been  robbed  of  his  whole  fortune  by  some  of  his 
wicked  relations,  who  liad  put  to  death  his  father  under  the  pretended  authority 
of  that  proscription,  though  in  reality  his  name  was  not  in  the  list  of  victims.  A 
favorite  of  Sylla,  named  Chrysojronus,  had  shared  this  infamous  plunder,  and,  to 
secure  Iiis  possession,  accused  the  son  of  being  tlie  murderer  of  his  father.  Such 
was,  at  this  time,  the  dread  of  offending  Sylla.  that  none  of  the  old  advocates  or 
orators  would  undertake  the  defence  of  this  injured  man.  Cicero,  then  in  hig 
twenty-seventh  year,  nobly  stood  forth  as  his  defender;  and,  with  admirable  skill 
and  address,  prevailed  in  obtaining  justice  for  his  client,  without  incurring  the 
resentment  of  that  man  who  was  the  protector  of  his  oppressors.  The  reputation 
of  the  pleader  rose  from  that  moment  to  the  highest  pitch,  and  he  was  regarded  as 
..he  first  orator  of  tiie  acre. 


B     C.  59.]  EXILE    OF    CICERO.  4">3 

averting  or  opposing  this  adverse  current  uliicli  threatened  his  de- 
struction, he  meanly  sunk  under  the  apprehension  of  its  force 
His  resolution  entirely  forsook  him.  He  clothed  himself  in  a 
mourning  habit,  as  did  most  of  the  equestrian  order  to  which  he 
belonged  ;  and  lie  presented  himself  in  the  assembly  of  the  people, 
in  the  abject  character  of  a  suppliant  whose  life  and  fortunes  were 
entirely  at  their  disposal.  He  claimed  the  friendship  of  Pompey, 
to  whom  he  had  done  essential  services  ;  but  he  shamefullv  aban- 
doned him.  Cato,  the  real  friend  of  Cicero,  and  who  would  have 
generously  supported  him  at  ail  hazards,  was  purposely  invosted 
with  a  commission  to  reduce  the  island  of  Cyprus,  in  order  to  re- 
move him  from  Rome  at  this  critical  moment  when  the  fate  of  his 
friend  was  in  dependence.  Before  leaving  the  city,  he  is  said  to 
have  counselled  Cicero  to  yield  to  the  necessity  of  circum'»tances, 
and  betake  liimsell  to  voluntary  banishment  from  his  ungratefui 
country. 

After  some  inefTectua!  endeavors  to  try  tlie  attachment  of  his 
former  friends,  which  only  ended  in  fresh  mortification,  Cicero  fol- 
lowed the  counsel  of  Cato.  He  set  off  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
and  embarked  at  Brundisium  for  Macedonia,  on  his  way  to  Thes- 
salonica,  where  he  had  fixed  the  scene  of  his  exile.  Here  he 
betrayed  in  a  lamentable  degree  the  weakness  of  his  mind.  The 
letters  which  he  wrote  to  Atticus,  it  has  been  well  observed,  "re- 
semble more  tiie  wailings  of  an  infant,  or  the  strains  of  a  tragedy 
composed  to  draw  tears,  than  the  language  of  a  man  supporting 
the  cause  of  integrity  in  the  midst  of  unmerited  trouble."*  "I 
wish  I  may  see  the  day  (he  thus  writes  to  his  friend)  when  I  shall 
be  disposed  to  thank  you  for  having  prevented  me  from  resorting  to 
a  voluntary  death  ;  for  I  now  bitterly  regret  that  I  yielded  in  that 
matter  to  your  entreaty.  What  species  of  misfortune  have  I  not 
endured.'*  Did  ever  any  one  fall  from  so  high  a  state,  in  so  good 
a  cause,  with  such  abilities  and  knowlinlge,  and  with  such  a  share 
of  the  public  esteem.'  Cut  oifin  such  a  career  of  glory,  deprived 
of  my  fortune,  torn  from  my  cljildren,  debarred  the  sight  of  a 
brother  dearer  to  me  than  my-cif — hut  my  tonrs  will  net  allow  me 
(o  proceed."  In  contem|)lating  such  a  j)icture,  the  historian  I 
have  just  quoted  truly  says,  "  It  appears  from  this  and  many  other 
scenes  of  the  life  of  this  remarkable  man,  that  though  he  loved  vir- 
tuous actions,  yet  his  virtue  was  accompanied  with  so  unsuitable  a 
thirst  of  the  praise  to  which  it  entitled  him,  that  his  mind  was  un- 
able to  sustain  itself  without  ihi-;  foreign  assistance  ;  and  when  the 
praise  to  which  he  aspired  for  his  consulate  was  changed  into  oblo- 
quy and  scorn,  he  seems  to  have  lost  the  sense  of  good  or  evil  in 
his  own  conduct  and  character."  How  ditlcrent  this  conduct  from 
the  sentiments  he  had  expressed  as  a  philosopher,  in  his  beautiful 


Ferguson's  Rom.   Kep.  vol.  ii.  p.  443. 


404  UMVF.nsAL  HISTORY.  [book  IV 

treatise  Dc  Finibns,  1.  i.:  "  Succumbere  doloribus,  eosque  hurnil 
aniino  imheoilloque  ferrc,  misoriim  est :  ob  eamqiie  dobilitatem 
aiiiini,  imiiti  i)arentes,  mnlti  amicos,  nnnniilli  patriam,  j)loriqiie 
aiitom  seipsos  penitus  pcrdidc^runt."  *  But  speculative  and  prac- 
tical phiioso])hy  are  widely  diirerent, 

Cicero's  departure  from  Rome  was  rcigarded  as  a  full  justifica- 
tion of  that  sentence  of  banishment  which  Clodius  immediately 
caused  to  be  passed  against  him  as  an  enemy  of  the  republic,  ac- 
companied wiili  a  decree  for  confiscating  his  whole  estates,  and 
demolishing  and  razing  to  the  ground  his  elegant  palaces  and  vil- 
las. Such  were  the  rewards  of  that  true  patriot  whom,  a  few 
n;onlhs  before,  his  country  had  justly  hailed  as  its  preserver  from 
utter  destruction  !  But  popular  opinion  is  ever  apt  to  jjass  from 
one  extreme  to  another  ;  and  the  latter  part  of  the  lile  of  Cicero 
was  a  perpetual  alternation  of  triumph  and  disgrace. 

We  have  remarked  that,  in  the  divisions  of  the  provinces  be- 
tween Caesar,  Pompey,  and  Crassus,  the  first  of  these  had  for  his 
share  those  extensive  territories  on  both  sides  of  the  Alps,  distin- 
guished by  the  names  of  Gallia  Cisalpina  and  Transalpina.  Ol 
these  he  obtained  the  government  for  five  years,  and  in  that  period 
he  carried  to  its  highest  pitch  the  military  glory  of  the  republic, 
and  his  own  reputation  as  a  consummate  general.  The  Helve- 
tians, leaving  their  own  territory,  had  attempted  to  obtain  a  set- 
tlement within  the  Roman  Province.  Caesar,  in  the  first  year  of 
his  government,  utterly  defeated  these  invaders,  and  drove  them 
back  to  their  native  seats  with  the  loss  of  near  200,000  slain  in 
the  field.  The  Germans  under  Ariovistus,  who  had  attempted  a 
similar  invasion,  were  repelled  with  immense  slaughter,  their  leader 
narrowly  escaping  in  a  small  boat  across  the  Rhine.  The  Belgre, 
the  Nervii,  the  Cehx,  the  Suevi,  Menapii,  and  other  warlike 
nations,  were  all  successively  brought  under  subjection.  In  the 
fourth  year  of  his  command  he  invaded  Britain.  The  motive  to 
this  enterprise  was  purely  ambition,  although  the  pretext  was  that 
the  Britons  were  the  aggressors  by  sending  sup]ilies  to  the  hostile 
tribes  of  Gaul.  Caesar  landed  near  Deal,  and  found  a  much  moie 
formioable  opposition  than  he  had  expected,  the  natives  dis[ilaying 
considerable  military  skill  with  the  most  dctormined  courage.  The 
Romans,  indeed,  gained  some  advantages  ;  but  Caesar  soon  becam 
sensible  that  the  conquest  of  the  island  required  a  much  greater 
force  than  had  yet  been  brought  against  it,  and  was  not  to  be 
achieved  in  a  single  campaign.  The  approach  of  winter  in  the 
country  of  an  enemy  whose  spirit  seemed  to  be  roused  to  the  most 
desperate  resistance,  gave  him  some  alarm  for  the  safety  ot  his 
arniy  ;  and,  therefore,  binding  the  conquered  parts  of  the  country 


•  "  To  yield  to  misfortunes,  and  bear  them  weakly,  is  miserable.  By  such 
infirmity  of  mind,  many  have  brought  ruin  on  their  relations  and  friends,  some 
even  on  their  country  ,  but  more  on  themselves."' 


B     C    54.]  THE    TRIUMVIRS.  105 

to   terms  of  submission,   he  thouglit  it  prudent    to  re-embark  his 
legions,  and,  after  settling  thein  in  winter-quarters  in  Gaul,  return 
ed  himself  to  Italy,  to  attend  to  the  concerns  of  the  capital,  where 
the   splendor  of  his  foreign  campaigns    had    highly   increased    his 
popularity. 

His  great  acquisition  of  fame  had  now  sensibly  obscured  tht 
glory  of  Pompey,  whose  influence  was  visibly  on  the  decline. 
To  strengthen  himself  by  the  interest  and  by  the  talents  of  Cicero, 
whom  he  had  before  so  meanly  abandoned,  he  now  j)rocured  ihu 
recall  of  that  illustrious  exile,  and  the  repeal  of  the  sentence  of 
confiscation  which  had  deprived  him  of  his  whole  property.  Ci- 
cero returned  to  his  countiy  after  an  absence  of  sixteen  montlis. 
His  journey  from  Brundisium  to  Rome  was  a  triumphal  j)roces- 
sion.  All  Italy,  as  he  said  himself,  seemed  to  flock  together  to 
hail  his  auspicious  return;  that  single  day  made  his  glory  immor- 
tal.* He  was  loaded  with  honors  ;  and  his  houses  and  villas, 
which  had  been  razed  to  the  ground,  were  rebuilt  with  increased 
magnificence  at  the  expense  of  the  public. 

By  the  influence  of  Cicero,  Pompey  regained  for  a  while  his 
popularity.  The  triumvirate,  though  secretly  animated  with  mu- 
tual jealousy,  still  continued  to  su|)port  each  other  in  their  power. 
Pompey  and  Crassus  were  elected  consuls;  the  former  having,  for 
five  years,  the  government  of  Spain,  and  the  latter  that  of  Syria, 
Greece,  and  Egypt.  They  had  unlimited  power  to  levy  troops, 
and  to  exact  whatever  pecuniary  sup|)lies  they  found  necessary, 
from  the  tributary  princes  and  states  under  their  government. 
Crassus,  insatiable  in  accumulating  wealth,  |)lundere(l  the  Eastern 
provinces  without  mercv  ;  but  having  engaged  in  an  inconsiderate 
expedition  against  the  Parlhiaiis,  he  was  totally  defeated,  his  whole 
army  cut  to  pieces,  and  he  himself  and  his  son  were  sl;*in  in  the 
field. 

Crrsar  in  the  meantime  was  prosecuting  his  military  oi)rrations 
m  Gaul,  and  seemed  to  take  no  concern  in  th(>  aflairs  ol  Rome  ; 
yet,  in  reality,  his  influence  there  now  regulated  every  nioasure  of 
importance.  His  partisans,  to  whom  he  remitted  large  sums  of 
money,  overruled  all  proceedings  in  (he  comitia,  and  carried  what- 
ever measures  of  a  j)uhlic  nature  he  chose  to  direct  ns  instrumen- 
tal to  his  own  views.  Pompey  was  not  blind  to  these  views  ;  and 
the  apparent  union  and  cordiality  which  ihey  yet  atlected  to  main, 
tain  was  any  diing  l)ut  real.  We  shall  soon  see  an  open  rupture, 
and  a  contention  for  undivided  sovereignty,  whose  issue  must  de- 
cide the  fate  of  the  conuuonwcalth. 


•  "  Moiis  qiiidom  nviiUis  is  fuit.  ut  a  Bnintliiiio  \i«qiio  ml  Romam  aumen  iwr 
oetunm  totius  Italite  vidiTcm.  Unus  ille  die*  milii  iiuidi-m  innUr  inmiurlAliU 
Its  full." 


400  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY.  [DOOK  IV 


CHAPTER  n. 

'tesdr  passes  tlie  Rubicon — Marclies  to  Rome  — Named  Dictator  —  Battle  of 
I'liarsalia — Fliirlit  and  Death  of  I'otnpey — Defeat  of  Pharnaces — Death  of 
Cato — Cffisar's  Reforms  in  tlio  Roman  State — ^Reform  of  the  Calendar — la 
created  perpetual  Dictator  with  the  title  of  Imperalor — Character  of  Caesar — 
Is  assassinated — Artful  conduct  of  IVIark  Antony — His  ambitious  views — 
Second  Triumvirate — Bloody  Proscription — Deatli  of  Cicero — Rattle  of  Phi- 
lippi,  and  End  of  the  lleiiiiblic — Battle  of  Actium — Death  of  Antony  and 
Cleopatra — Octavius  (afterwards  Augustus)  sole  master  of  the  Roman  Em 
pire. 

The  brilliaiii.y  of  the  warlike  exploits  of  Casar,  and  the  influence 
of  his  partisans  in  the  public  measures  of  the  commonwealth,  easily 
procured  the  prolongation  of  his  government  of  the  Gauls,  to  a 
period  double  the  length  of  that  for  which  it  had  been  originally 
granted.  In  the  course  of  ten  years,  he  had  reduced  the  greater 
part  of  what  is  now  called  France  into  a  Roman  jjrovince  ;  a  con- 
quest, in  which  his  political  talents  were  no  less  signally  displayed 
than  his  abilities  as  a  general.  His  Conunentaries,  a  military  jour- 
nal which  contains  i  brief  and  perspicuous  detail  of  his  campaigns, 
are  no  less  a  proof  of  his  excelling  in  those  splendid  features  of  a 
public  character,  than  of  his  possessing  all  the  qualities  of  a  skil- 
ful and  eloquent  historian. 

The  renewed  term  of  his  government  was  on  the  eve  of  expir- 
ing ;  but  this  extraordinary  man  had  no  design  of  relinquishing  liis 
njilitary  command.  To  secure  himself  against  a  deprivation  of 
power,  he  bribed  Curio,  one  of  the  tribunes,  to  make  a  proposal 
which  wore  the  appearance  of  great  moderation,  and  regard  for 
the  public  liberty.  This  was,  that  Caesar  and  Pompey  shotild 
either  both  continue  in  their  governments — or  both  be  recalled  ; 
as  they  were  equally  capable  of  endangering  the  safety  of  the  com- 
monwealth by  an  abuse  of  power.  The  motion  passed,  and  Ca- 
sar immediately  offered  to  resign  on  condition  that  his  rival  should 
'bllow  his  example  ;  but  Pompey  rejected  the  proposal,  })iol)ably 
aware  of  the  real  designs  of  Csesar,  but  too  confidently  relying 
on  the  strength  of  his  own  party,  and  the  influence  he  had  with 
his  troops.  A  civil  war  was  the  necessary  consequence.  Every 
connection  between  these  two  ambitious  men  was  now  at  an  end. 
The  death  of  Julia,  the  daughter  of  Ca!sar,  and  wife  of  Pompey, 
dissolved  that  feeble  bond  of  union  which  had  hitherto  subsisted 
between  them.*     They  were  now  declared  enemies,  and  each  pre- 


"  This  lady  died  in  childbed.     She  was  beloved  by    Pompey  with   the  fondest 


B.   C.  49.]  CAESAR    PASSKS     THE    KCIilCON.  401 

pared  to  assert,  by  arms,  his  title  to  aii  unrestrained  dominion  over 
his  country.  It  is  not  a  little  surprising,  that  the  citizens  of  Rome 
should  deliberately  prepare  to  sacrifice  their  lives  and  I'urlunes  ic 
the  decision  of  such  a  contest,  with  all  the  zeal  of  men  who  (iglif 
for  their  most  valuable  rights  and  possessions. 

Pompey  had  on  his  side  the  consuls  and  a  great  part  of  the 
seriate.  In  one  respect  he  had  justice  on  his  side,  for  the  tenn 
of  his  government  was  not  yet  at  an  end,  and  the  proposed  accom- 
modation was  evidently  a  snare  laid  for  him  by  Caesar.  Cato  and 
Cicero  had  taken  part  with  Pompey,  which  showed  their  sense  of 
the  justice  of  his  cause,  for  they  were  no  false  |)airiois.  Hut  Csesar 
had  in  his  favor  a  victorious  army  of  veteran  troops,  profound  mili- 
tary skill,  and  a  great  portion  of  popularity  gained  by  his  general 
character  of  humanity,  and  well-employed  largesses  among  all  ranks 
of  the  people. 

The  bounfiary  which  separates  Italy  from  Cisalpine  Gaul  is  a 
small  river  named  the  Rubicon.  The  Roiiian  senate,  aware  of  the 
designs  of  Caisar,  had  pronounced  a  decree,  devoting  to  the  Infer- 
nal gods  whatever  general  should  presume  to  pass  this  boundary 
with  an  army,  a  legion,  or  even  a  single  cohort. 

Caesar,  who,  with  all  his  ambition,  inherited  a  large  share  of  the 
benevolent  affections,  did  not  resolve  on  the  decisive  step  which 
he  had  now  taken  without  some  compunction  of  mind.  Arrived 
with  his  army  at  the  border  of  bis  province,  he  hesitated  for  some 
time,  while  he  pictured  to  himself  the  inevitable  miseries  of  that 
civil  war,  in  which  he  was  now  pre])aring  to  unsheath  the  sword. 
"  If  I  pass  this  small  streain,"  said  he,  "  in  what  calamities  must  I 
involve  my  country!  Yet,  if  I  do  not,  I  myself  am  ruined.'" 
The  latter  consideration  was  too  powerful.  Ambition,  too,  pre- 
sented allurements,  which  to  a  mind  like  Caesar's  were  irresistible. 
He  passed  the  boundary,  and  took  possession  of  .'\riininum,  where 
he  was  joined  by  Mark  Antony  and  Cassius.  They  were  at  that 
time  tribunes  of  the  people,  and  after  endeavoring  in  vain  to  serve 
his  interest  at  Rome,  by  strenuously  op|)osing  a  decree  of  the  seri- 
ate, which  required  Caesar  to  disbjind  liis  army,  now  openly  joined 
him  in  the  field  with  a  considerable  body  of  their  followers. 

Rome  was  now  in  the  utmost  alarm  and  consternation.  Caesar 
had  with  him  ten  legions,  while  Pompey,  to  whom  the  city  looked 
for  i)rotection,  and  whom  the  senate  had  invested  with  all  auihoriiy 
to  defend  the  republic,  had,  with  unpardonable  siipineness,  taken 
no  measures  to  guard  against  a  step  of  this  kind,  which  he  might 
well  have  apprehended  from  the  daring  genius  of  bis  rival.  Ho 
now  ordered   in  haste  a  general  levy  to  be  made  over  all   Italy  ; 


affection  ;  and  ihnA,  in  the  exprcssivn  words  of  Vflli'iiis  E'aU*rciilii«,  frat  mediu 
mali  cohairciUis  inter  I'omprium  U  Citsarrm  ronronlur  pignus — LiT).  ii.  c   47. 


403  UNIVERSAL    UISTOHY  [UOOK   IV' 

but  I'oiiml  U)  Ills  inoriifiralioii,  thai  Caesar  liad  |)re-occujjiccl  the 
most  iiiiporiaiit  places  uhciice  troops  were  to  he  drawn,  and  was 
dailv  joined  by  fresh  reinforcements.  Mis  Ucll-iimcd  bounties, 
and  that  clemency  which  he  showed  on  every  su;:cess  of  liis  arms, 
and  which  was  truly  a  part  of  his  nature,  had  gamed  him  the  gen- 
eml  favor.  The  circumstance  of  the  two  tribunes  espousing  his 
cause  gave  it  a  show  of  patriotism,  and  he  now  p.ibticly  proclaim- 
ed that  his  sole  purpose  in  leaving  his  governmcn-  was  to  vindicate 
the  authority  of  the  people  thus  injured  in  the  persons  of  their  ma- 
gistrates. 

Pompey  was  now  sensible  of  his  weakness.  The  voice  of  the 
public  openly  expressed  an  impatient  desire  for  the  arrival  of  Cae- 
sar, who,  on  his  part,  was  rapidly  advancing  to  the  gates  of  Rome, 
when  Pompey  quitted  the  city,  followed  by  the  consuls  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  senators.  Unable  to  collect  a  sufficient  force 
in  Italy,  he  passed  over  into  Epirus.  The  East  had  been  the 
scene  of  his  conquests,*  and  thence  he  trusted  that  he  would  be 
supplied  both  with  troops  and  treasure.  Before  sailing  from  Brun- 
disium,  he  had  declared  that  he  would  treat  all  those  as  enemies 
who  did  not  follow  him.  Caesar,  with  more  wisdom,  declared  that 
he  would  esteem  all  those  his  friends  who  did  not  arm  against  him. 

Caesar,  by  immediately  following  Pompey,  might,  perhaps,  have 
brought  the  war  to  a  speedy  termination  ;  but,  besides  the  want  of 
transports  for  the  conveyance  of  his  army,  he  judged  it  hazardous 
to  leave  Italy  defenceless  against  the  lieutenants  of  Pompey,  then 
in  considerable  force  in  the  Province  of  Spain.  His  first  objects, 
therefore,  were  the  securing  the  seat  of  empire,  and  reducing  the 
hostile  army  under  Pompey 's  officers.  After  making  his  public 
entry  into  Rome,  where  he  was  received  with  the  loudest  accla- 
mations, and  possessing  himself  of  the  public  treasury,  he  set  out 
for  Spain.  Marseilles,  which  lay  in  his  route,  had  declared  for 
his  ri\al,  but  leaving  Trebonius  to  besiege  it,  he  proceeded  in  his 
march  to  meet  the  lieutenants  of  Pompey,  Afranius  and  Petreius. 
These  he  speedily  subdued,  and,  compelling  them  to  yield  at  dis- 
cretion, sent  them  home  to  Rome  to  proclaim  his  clemency  and 
moderation.  In  the  space  of  forty  days  all  Spain  submitted  to  the 
arms  of  Caesar,  and  he  returned  victorious  to  Rome,  where,  in  his 
absence,  he  had  been  proclaimed  dictator.  In  that  quality,  he  pre- 
sided at  the  annual  election  of  the  chief  magistrates  of  the  state,  and 
was  himself  elected  consul.  He  had  now  that  legal  title  to  act  in 
.he  name  of  the  republic,  which  he  had  hitherto  wanted.  If  tlie 
power  of  an  usurper  is  capable  of  being  validated  by  the  subse- 
quent voluntary  sanction  of  those  over  whom  it  is  usurped,  Caisar 
had  now  that  ratification. 

Meantime  Pompey  was  strenuously  collecting  forces  in  Greece, 
Macedonia,  and  Epirus.  He  likewise  drew  large  supplies  from  the 
sovereigns  of  Asia,  and  had  already  mustered  an  army  of  five 
legions,  with  five  hundred  ships  of  war,  under  the  conunand   of 


R     C.   45.]  BATTLE    OF    PIIARSAI.IA  409 

Bibulus.  Caiisar  embarked *at  Brundisiuin  w'ali  an  equal  arma- 
ment of  five  legions,  and  the  (wo  armies  came  in  sight  of  each 
other  near  Dyrracliiiim,  in  lilyria.  After  one  doubtful  en2;a{;e- 
ment,  in  which  the  advantage  was  rather  on  the  side  of  Pomjjey, 
Caesar  led  him  on  to  Macedonia,  where  he  had  two  .additional 
legions  under  his  lieutenant  Calvinus.  Pompey,  who  was  easily 
elated  with  every  appearance  of  success,  flattered  himself  that 
this  was  a  retreat  upon  the  part  of  his  enemy.  He  was,  there- 
fore, anxious  to  come  up  with  him,  and  eager  to  terminate  the  war 
by  a  general  engagement.  This  was  exactly  what  Ca>sar  wished. 
This  imjiortant  battle  was  fougiit  in  the  field  of  Pharsalia.  The 
army  of  Pompey  amounteil  to  forty-five  thousand  foot,  and  seven 
thousand  horse,  which  was  more  than  double  that  of  his  rival  ; 
and  so  confident  of  victory  were  the  former,  that  they  had  adorned 
their  tents  with  festoons  of  laurel  and  myrtle,  and  prepared  a 
splendid  banquet  against  their  return  from  the  battle.  Vaiii  and 
presumptuous  projiarations  !  Of  this  im!iiense  army,  fifteen  thou- 
sand were  left  dead  on  the  field,  and  twenty-four  thousand  surren- 
dered themselves  prisoners  of  war,  and  cheerfully  iucorpoi  iied 
themselves  into  the  army  of  the  victor,  whose  loss,  in  all,  did  not 
exceed  two  hundred  men.  Ca'sar  found  in  the  camp  of  Pom[)ey, 
all  his  papers,  containing  the  correspondence  he  carried  on  with 
the  chief  of  his  partisans  at' Rome.  The  s-agacious  and  magnani- 
mous chief  committed  them  unopened  to  the  flames,  declaring  that 
he  wished  rather  to  be  ignorant  who  were  his  enemies,  than  to  be 
obliged  to  punish  them. 

After  this  fatal  engagement,  Pompey  experienced  all  liie  mise- 
ries of  a  fugitive.  The  last  scenes  of  the  life  of  this  illustriou 
man  afford  a  striking  picture  of  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  and  the 
Mistability  of  all  human  greatness.  He  passed  the  first  night,  after 
his  defeat,  in  the  solitary  hut  of  a  fisherman  upon  the  seacoasl 
Thence  he  went  on  board  a  vessel,  which  landed  him  first  at 
Amphipolis  ;  whence  he  sailed  to  Lesbos,  where  his  wife  Cornelia 
was  wailing,  in  anxious  expectation,  the  issue  of  the  late  decisive 
conflict.  They  met  upon  the  seashore.  Pompey  embraced  her 
without  ulteruig  a  word,  and  this  silence  spoke  at  once  the  whole 
extent  of  her  misfortune.  They  fled  for  protection  to  Kgypt,  where 
Pompev  expected  to  find  a  welcome  asylum  at  the  court  of  the 
young  Ptolemy,  whose  father  Auletes  had  owed  to  him  his  settle- 
ment upon  the  throne.  But  Ptolemy  was  then  at  war  with  his 
sister  Cleopatra,  to  whom  their  father  had  jointly  brtpicathed  the 
kingdom  ;  ami  his  ministers,  ap|ireh<'ii(ling  that  Pouipcy  would  take 
the  part  of  Cleopatra,  in  order  to  enforce  that  settl(Muent  of  which 
the  Roman  |)eople  were  appointed  the  executors,  immediately 
determined  his  destruction.  The  ship  which  carried  Pompt-y  and 
Cornelia  had  approached  w  ithin  sight  of  the  land,  and  he  despatched 
a  messenger  ashore  d(>siring  an  audience  of  the  Egyptian  moriarch. 
A  single  boat  rowed  oil'  from  the  laud,  in  which  t  ame  some  offi- 
VOL.  I.  !J2 


410  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY. 


[ROOK   IV 


cers  with  orders  to  briiip;  him  on  sliore  ;  and  he  parted  with  many 
tears  from  Cornelia,  who  was  justly  apprehensive  of  his  safely,  but 
could  not  foresee  all  the  misery  of  his  fate. 

They  were  still  in  sight  of  the  ship,  and  Pompcy,  who  began  to 
fear  that  he  was  betrayed,  sought  to  ingratiate  hiinse.f  with  those 
to  whom  he  was  now  a  prisoner.  lie  reminded  some  of  them  of 
having  served  under  his  banners,  when  a  few  years  before  he  was 
the  conqueror  of  the  East  ;  but  they,  answering  nothing,  rowed  on 
in  gloomy  silence  till  they  reached  the  land.  While  Pompey  rose 
to  step  on  shore,  he  received  the  stroke  of  a  dagger  in  his  side, 
and,  decently  covering  his  face  with  his  robe,  resigned  himself  to 
nis  fate.  They  cut  off  his  head,  and  cast  his  body  naked  upon 
the  sand  ;  where  a  faithful  slave,  who  had  attended  him,  stealing 
to  the  place  during  the  silence  of  the  night,  made  a  small  funeral 
})ile  from  the  fragments  of  a  boat,  and  burnt  the  body,  carrying 
the  ashes  to  Cornelia.  "  Princeps  Romani  nominis  imperio  arbi- 
trioque  Egyptii  mancipii  jngiilatus  est.  Hie  post  tres  consulatus, 
at  totidem  triumphos,  domitumque  terrarum  orbem,  vilae  fuit  exitus. 
In  tantuin  in  illo  viro  a  se  discordante  fortuna,  ut  cui  modo  ad  vic- 
toriam  terra  defuerat,  deesset  ad  sepulturam."* 

Cassar,  being  told  of  the  course  which  Pompey  had  steered, 
sailed  directly  to  Alexandria.  When  informed  of  his  fate,  he  could 
not  restrain  his  tears  ;  and  when  his  murderers  presented  to  him 
the. head  of  that  unhappy  man,  which  they  judged  must  have  been 
to  him  a  grateful  spectacle,  he  turned  aside  with  horror  from  the 
sight.  He  caused  every  honor  to  be  paid  to  his  memory,  and  from 
that  time  showed  the  utmost  indulgence  and  even  beneficence  to 
the  partisans  of  his  unfortunate  rival.  Those  men  have  a  bad  opin- 
ion of  human  nature,  who  ascribe  this  conduct  altogether  to  a  refined 
policy,  and  account  Cresar  only  the  greater  hypocrite,  the  more  ex- 
amples he  showed  of  the  milder  virtues.  An  hypothesis  so  con- 
trary to  every  rule  of  candid  judgment,  is  contradicted  by  the  whole 
tenor  of  this  truly  great  man's  life. 

Ptolemy  Auleles,  the  father  of  the  present  sovereign  of  Egypt, 
nad  named,  as  we  before  remarked,  the  Roman  people  as  the 
executors  of  his  testamentary  settlement  of  the  kingdom ;  and 
Caesar,  as  acting  in  the  name  of  the  republic,  now  took  on  him- 
self the  right  of  deciding  between  the  pretensions  of  Cleopatra 
and  her  brother.  The  charms  of  Cleopatra  had  probably  their 
nifluence  on  this  decision.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  allegation  of 
the  partisans  of  the  young  Ptolemy,  who  for  several  months  raain- 


*  "  He,  the  noblest  of  the  Roman  name,  fell  by  the  orders  of  an  Esryptian 
bondsman. — Sm-h  was  tiie  miserable  end  of  him  who  had  thrice  borne  the  dig- 
nity of  consul,  tlirice  been  honored  with  a  triiimpii,  and  been,  in  fact,  the  lord 
of  the  world.  In  him  so  great  was  the  reverse  of  fortune,  that  he,  who  but 
lately  found  the  earth  too  small  for  his  conquests,  could  not  now  command 
enoijorh  to  cover  his  remains.'' — Veil.  Pater,  ii.  25. 


B.  C     47.]  CESAR.  41  1 

tained  his  cause  by  force  of  arms,  and  besieged  Cansar  in  ilio  city 
of  Alexandria.  In  this  war  the  young  Pioloniy  was  killed,  and 
an  accident  happened  of  which  the  general  consequences  were 
more  to  be  deplored;  the  greater  part  of  the  celebrated  lil)rary  of 
the  Ptolemies  was  burnt  to  the  ground.*  The  issue  of  the  war 
would  probably  have  been  fatal  to  Cssar,  had  he  not  received 
timely  succors  from  Asia.  Thus  reinforced  he  brought  the  king- 
dom of  Egypt  under  complete  subjection,  bestowing  tl)e  sove- 
reignty jointly  on  Cleopatra  and  a  younger  Ptolemy,  a  child  of 
eleven  years  of  age,  the  brother  of  the  last  prince. 

He  now  turned  his  arms  against  Piiarnaces,  the  son  of  Mithri- 
dates,  who  had  seized  the  kingdom  of  Pontus,  and  meditated, 
after  his  father's  example,  to  strip  the  Romans  of  their  Asiatic 
possessions.  This  war  he  very  speedily  terminated,  intimating  its 
issue  to  his  friends  at  Rome  in  three  words,  Feni,  vidi,  vici.f 

Thus  having  established  order  and  tranquillity  in  the  East,  Cisar 
returned  to  Rome,  where  he  was  elected  consul  for  the  ensuing 
year,  and  dictator,  being  the  third  time  he  had  enjoyed  both  these 
dignities.  Rome  stood  in  need  of  his  presence;  for  the  troops 
which,  under  the  command  of  Mark  Antony,  had  remained  in  Italy, 
had  spread  universal  disorder  and  anarchy.  The  partisans  of  his 
late  rival  were  at  the  same  time  in  arms  in  Africa,  headed  bv  Sci|)io 
and  Cato,  who,  together  with  the  sons  of  Pompey,  hail  (led  thither 
after  the  defeat  of  Pharsalia,  and  received  cordial  aid  from  Juba, 
king  of  Mauritania.  Ca;sar,  dierefore,  found  the  chief  obstacle  to 
his  ambition  in  this  quarter,  and  embarking  for  Africa,  was  obliged 
for  some  time  to  act  with  the  greatest  caution,  and  avoid  a  general 
engagement,  with  an  enemy  whose  elective  A)rces  greatly  out- 
numbered his  own.  lie  gained,  however,  several  advantages,  and 
his  high  reputation,  together  with  the  prevailin;;;  opinion  of  that 
prosperous  fortune  which  had  hitherto  attended  all  his  enterprises, 
caused  daily  desertions  to  his  standards  from  the  ranks  of  his  enp- 
niies.  A  favorable  situation  at  length  presenting  itself,  l.o 
engaged  the  allied  army  at  Thapsus,  and  obtained  a  complete  vic- 
tory. Scipio  perished  in  his  passage  to  Spain.  Cato  alone 
remained,  whose  indomitable  spirit  no  reverse  of  fortune  was  capa- 
ble of  forcing  to  yield  to  any  terms  of  submission.  With  an  un- 
daunted resolution,  he  shut  hiiusrif  up  in  Utica  with  a  few  noble 
spirits,  who,  like  himself,  disdained  to  yield  to  the  master  of  Rome. 
He  formed  the  [>rincii)al  citizens  into  a  senate,  and  for  snuie  time 


*  The  royal  lihrnry  of  Aloxandrin  was  said  to  ronsiMl  of  scvon  hiirxlrrd  ihoii- 
sand  volumi's  :  ol'tlicsi?  four  liundrt-d  tlioii><ni)ii,  di>|io!«it(  d  in  tlio  qnartrr  of  ihe 
city  c;illc(l  nnicliioii,  won-  destroyed  on  llii'*  oecnsioii ;  Ihe  other  part,  contain- 
in"'  three  hundred  thousand,  was  within  the  Sera|>enrn,  nnH  j*sca|»rd  the  flnnir*  ; 
tliere  it  was  fliat  (?Ieopatra  deposited  tlie  two  hundred  tboiisatul  vojumr*  of 
the  Perffainean  li!)rarv.  iriven  to  her  hy  Mark  Antony.  This  wan  inrr*".!!"'!!  from 
acre  to  a^e,till  it  was  finally  l)iiriit  hy  ihe  caliph  (Jniar,  in   a.  d.  lil'-. 

♦  "  I  came,  I   saw,  I  conipiered." 


»12  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY.  [llOOK    1> 

cherished  iJ?  (Ic.s|)i'r;ite  jjiirposo  of  holdinj;  out  the  town  against 
the  whole  force  which  Caesar  could  bring  against  it.  But  the 
spirits  of  his  parly  were  not  equal  to  his  own,  and  some  of  iiis 
fir'ends  venturing  to  hint  a  wish  for  a  timely  capitulation,  Cato 
counselled  them  to  provide  as  they  judged  best  for  their  own 
safety.  After  supper,  during  which  he  conversed  with  his  usual 
cheerfulness,  he  retired  to  his  apartment,  and  for  awhile  occupied 
himself  in  perusing  Plato's  Dialogue  on  the  Immortality  of  the 
Soul.  lie  tlicn  coiMjiosed  himself  to  sleep,  and  after  a  short 
repose,  inciuiring  whether  his  friends  had  saved  themselves  by 
flight,  and  being  assured  that  all  was  well,  he  calmly  fell  upon  his 
sword. 

Juba  was  now  driven  from  his  kingdom,  and  Mauritania  became 
a  Roman  province.  The  victorious  Caesar  returned  to  Rome. 
The  natural  clemency  of  his  disposition  now  signally  displayed 
itself:  he  remembered  no  longer  that  there  had  been  opposite 
parties,  but  showed  the  same  humane  indulgence  to  the  friends  of 
Pompey,  as  if  they  had  never  been  his  enemies.  Many  of  them 
he  raised  to  offices  of  dignity  and  emolument,  and  found  them 
henceforward  the  most  attached  of  his  partisans.  He  was  decreed 
a  splendid  triumph,  and  on  that  occasion  gratified  the  people  with 
the  most  magnificent  games  and  entertainments.  Master  of  the 
state,  he  from  this  lime  employed  his  whole  attention  in  contribut- 
ing to  its  prosperity  and  happiness.  He  turned  his  mind  to  the 
reformation  of  abuses  of  every  kind.  He  repressed  luxury  by 
sumptuary  laws;  stimulated  industry  by  rewards;  and  by  sedu- 
lously promoting  the  comforts  of  the  lower  class  of  citizens,  gave 
the  most  eficctual  encouragement  to  population.  While  he  thus 
advanced  the  prosperity  of  the  capital,  he  introduced  order  and 
economy  into  the  government  of  the  provinces,  where  hitherto 
every  species  of  oppression  and  peculation  had  been  permitted  and 
countenanced. 

The  genius  of  Cajsar  was  not  confined  to  the  arts  of  government, 
out  carried  its  researches  into  every  branch  of  science  and  philoso- 
])hy.  The  duration  of  the  year  at  this  time  was  twelve  lunai 
months,  with  an  intercalation  of  twenty-two  or  twenty-three  days, 
alternately,  at  the  end  of  every  two  years  :  but  the  pontift's  either 
"nlroduced  or  omitted  the  intercalation  according  to  circumstances, 
as  they  wanted  to  abridge  or  prolong  the  time  of  the  magistrates' 
continuing  in  office — and  thus  there  was  the  greatest  confusion  in 
the  calendar.  Caesar,  who  was  a  proficient  in  astronomy,  and  to 
whose  writings  in  that  science  even  Ptolemy  confesses  that  he  owed 
information,  corrected  the  errors  of  the  calendar,  by  fixing  the  solar 
year  at  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days,  with  an  intercalation  of 
one  day  every  fourth  year.* 


"Romulus  divided  tlie  year  into  ten  months,  which  consisted  of  three    hun- 


B     C.  45. J  CESAR    IMPERATOR.  413 

The  sons  of  Poinpey,  Cneius  and  Sexlus,  attempted  to  rekin- 
dle the  war  in  Spain  ;  but  they  were  soon  subdued  by  Caesar  in  a 
decisive  engagement  at  Munda.  Returning  from  tliis  expedition 
to  Rome,  he  was  hailed  the  Father  of  iiis  Country,  was  created 
consul  for  ten  years,  and  perpetual  dictator.  His  person  was 
declared  sacred;  as  a  symbol  of  which,  he  was  allowed  to  wear 
consianlly  a  circlet  of  laurel,  hitherto  the  temporary  distinction  of 
a  trium])hanl  general.  In  like  manner  the  epithet  of  imperator, 
which  wsis  only  occasionally  bestowed  on  the  commander  of  a 
victorious  army,  was  now  conferred  on  Caesar  as  a  perpetual  title 
of  honor,  as  he  was  invested  for  life  with  the  power  of  chief  com- 
mander of  the  whole  armies  of  the  state. 

By  tl)ese  public  acts  and  decrees  of  the  Roman  people,  accu- 
mulating the  most  despotic  powers  of  sovereignty  in  the  i>erson 
of  an  individual,  the  commonwealth  of  Rome  had  now  voluntarilv 
resigned  its  liberties:  the  ancient  republican  constitution  was  at  an 
end;  there  were  none  who  either  had  an  interest  or  a  desire  to 
maintain  it;  for  the  passion  for  manly  independence,  and  the  anx- 
ious vindication  of  their  rights  as  free  citizens,  which  in  former 
times  animated  the  great  body  of  the  people,  and  checked  all 
inordinate  ambition  in  individuals,  had  now  given  place  to  that 
selfish  spirit  which  is  content  with  the  pleasures  of  luxury,  and 
seeks  the  gratification  of  its  narrow  schemes  of  enjoyment  by 
courting  the  favor  of  a  sovereign  or  meanly  flattering  his  pas- 
sions. The  Roman  liberty,  as  Montesquieu  has  well  observed, 
was  not  extinguished  by  the  ambition  of  a  Pornpey  or  of  a  Cresar. 
If  the  sentiments  of  Caesar  and  Pompey  had  been  the  same  with 
those  of  Cato,  others  would  have  cherished  the  same  ambitious 
thoughts  which  they  discovered;  and  since  the  republic  was  fated 
to  fall,  there  never  would  have  been  wanting  a  hand  to  drag  it  to 
destruction. 

Yet  though  the  fall  of  a  constitution  is  the  necessary  and  tin- 


dred  and  four  days;  but  Nuina  added  two  oiflor  iiionlli!5,  January  and  Ffbruary, 
whicli  made  his  year  to  contain  threo  hundred  and  fitty-fi>ur  days.  But  this 
computation  falhnir  short  of  the  space  of  a  ro^^rular  year  by  ton  days  and  »ix 
hours  nearly,  occasioned  ev(;ry  eiirlitli  year  an  interposition  of  three  whole 
months,  whicli  they  called  the  intercalary  or  leap  year.  The  care  oT  makinij 
this  intercalation  being  left  to  the  priests,  they  introduced  or  omitted  a  month 
wlienever  they  pleased,  till  at  last  there  was  such  disorder,  that  festiviils  came 
to  be  kept  at  a  season  quite  diffen-nl  from  that  of  their  first  institution.  To 
remedy  these  abuses,  Julius  Ciesiir  added  the  odd  ten  days  to  Nnm.i's  year  ;  nnd 
le.it  the  odd  si.t  hours  should  create  conl"usion,  he  ordered  that  every  fourth 
year  one  whole  day  should  be  inserted,  next  after  the  twenty-third  of  February, 
or  next  before  the  sixth  of  the  calends  of  March  ;  for  \vhich  reason  the  supernu- 
merary day  was  called  dies  bis-sextus,  and  thence  the  leap  year  came  to  he 
called  annus  bis-sexlilis.  This  is  the  Julian  or  Old  Style.  Yet  l)ecause  there 
wanted  eleyen  minutes  in  the  six  odd  hours  of  Julius's  year,  the  ecpiinoxes  and 
Bolstices,  hisinij  something  continually,  were  found,  about  the  ye:ir  l.%'^4,  to 
have  run  back  ten  wiiole  days:  for  wliich  reason  I'ope  (Jrerrory  XIII,  rut  olT 
ten  days  to  bring  them  to  thr'ir  proper  places,  and  this  is  called  the  Gn*go 
rian  or  New  Stylo. 


411  UMVEfisiL  /iisToiiy.  [dook   l\ 

avt)iii;il)le  consequence  of  the  decay  of  those  principles  by  uliicli 
it  had  ()iii;iii:illy  been  supported,  men  must  reprobate  liie  instru- 
ment of  usin  paiion  by  which  iheir  ruin  is  finally  accomplished.  In 
this  point  of  view  the  conduct  of  Caesar  cannot  be  vindicated  on 
'tljo  score  of  right.  He  was  an  usurper;  and  had  it  been  possible 
to  restore  the  Roman  liberty  and  the  ancient  fabric  of  the  com- 
monwcahh  by  the  extinction  of  the  tyrant,  an  open  and  manly  use 
of  the  sword  for  his  destruction  had  been  a  meritorious  and  patriotic 
attempt.  But  here  lay  the  delusion:  it  may  be  the  fact,  that  those 
men  who  accomplished  the  death  of  Caesar  acted  upon  principles 
truly  virtuous  and  patriotic;  they  did  perhaps  believe,  that  by 
his  death,  they  would  restore  the  liberty  and  ancient  constitution 
of  their  country:  but  we  must  deplore  the  narrowness  of  their 
views  who  did  not  perceive  that  an  internal  principle  of  corruption 
had  annihilated  the  one,  and  must  have  proceeded  to  extinguish 
the  other,  although  Julius  Csesar  had  never  been  born.  Even 
Cicero,  whose  political  jtrinciples  led  him  to  approve  of  the  death 
of  Caesar,  candidly  owns  that  the  republic  gained  nothing  by  that 
event: — "  Inlerfecto  domino,  liberi  non  sumus:  non  fuit  dominus 
ille  fugiendus:  sublato  enim  tyranno,  tyrannida  manere  video."  * 

The  personal  character,  too,  of  this  illustrious  man  has  greatly 
contributed  to  increase  the  censure  of  those  who  conspired  and 
accomplished  his  death;  f  but  in  impartial  reasoning  on  the  merit 
or  demerit  of  this  action,  it  is  not  equitable  to  allow  force  to  such 
considerations. 

The  magnificent  schemes  of  a  public  nature  which  Ca:sar  had 
formed  would  certainly  have  contributed  both  to  his  own  glory 
and  to  the  interest  and  happiness  of  the  people  whom  he  govern- 
ed;, and  a  just  sense  of  these  benefits  was  doubtless  the  principal 


"'•The  master  is  slain,  but  we  are  not  the  more  free.  It  was  not  he  who 
was  to  he  dreaded.  The  tyrant  is  indeed  removed,  but  the  tyranny  remains.' 
Cic.  ad  Auic.  xiv.  14. 

t  Julius  Cffisar  united  in  himself  more  of  the  advantages  of  mind  and  body 
than  perhaps,  any  of  liis  contemporaries,  and  to  these  were  added  the  splendor 
of  ancestry  ;  for  he  could  trace  his  pedi^'ree,  on  his  mother's  side,  up  to  Ancus 
Marlius;  and  the  Julian  family,  of  which  he  was  the  head,  were  generally  be- 
lieved to  have  descended  frf)m  the  Trojan  ^neas.  Velleius  Paterculus  thus 
shortly  enumerates  these  striking  characteristics  of  Csesar  : — "Hie  nobilissima 
Juliorum  genitus  familia,  et  quod  inter  omnes  antiquissimos  constabat,  ab 
Anchise  et  Venere  deducens  genus,  forma  omnium  civium  excellentissiraus, 
vigore  animi  acerritnus,  munificentia  effusissimus,  animo  supra  humanain  et 
naturam  ct  fidem  evectus,  magnitudine  cogitationum,  celeritate  bellandi,  pa- 
lienlia  periculorum,  magno  illi  Alexandro,  sed  sobrio  nee  iracundo,  simillimus  " 
Veil.  Pat.  ii.  41 

"  Born  of  the  most  illustrious  family  of  the  Julii,  and  tracing  his  highest  de- 
/^ent  from  Anchises  and  Venus,  he  excelled  all  his  fellow  citizens  in  the  graces 
of  his  person,  the  vigor  of  his  mind,  and  the  splendor  of  his  munificence;  and 
that  to  a  degree  not  only  beyond  human  nature,  but  beyond  human  conception  • 
in  the  magnitude  of  his  designs,  his  promptitude  in  war,  his  indifference  to 
danger,  he  was  the  equal  of  the  great  Alexander,  but  in  command  over  himself 
far  his  superior." 


B.    C.     11.]  DEATH    OF    CiSAR.  415 

cause  of  hu  popii.arity  while  alive,  and  of  the  splendid  reputation 
which  has  attended  his  memory.  He  had  proposed  to  collect, 
arrange,  and  methodize  the  laws  of  his  country.  He  had  em- 
ployed the  most  learned  men  of  his  times  to  collect  libraries  for 
the  public  use.  He  had  planned  the  most  magnificent  structures 
for  the  embellishment  of  the  city,  and  the  preservation  of  the 
public  records.  He  projected  the  draining  of  the  marshes  of  Italy, 
which  rendered  the  whole  country  unwliolesome;  the  deepennig 
the  bed  of  the  Tiber,  and  the  construction  of  a  harbor  at  the 
mouth  of  that  river  capable  of  receiving  the  largest  vessels  both 
for  war  and  merchandise.  We  have  noticed  the  reforms  which 
he  introduced  in  the  government  of  the  provinces.  He  proposed 
to  have  a  complete  survey  and  geographical  delineation  made  of 
the  whole  Roman  empire.  These  were  certainly  schemes  equally 
splendid  and  beneficial  to  the  public.  They  create  a  just  admira- 
tion of  the  character  of  Caesar,  and  make  us  regret  that  blind  and 
infatuated  zeal  which  frustrated  the  accomplishment  of  those  great 
designs,  without  giving  in  exchange  for  them  any  real  or  substantial 
good. 

It  was  almost  the  only  weakness  of  this  truly  great  man,  that, 
possessing  the  reality  of  sovereign  power,  he  was  not  satisfied 
without  obtaining  likewise  its  external  pageantry.  To  graiily  this 
frivolous  passion,  the  senate  had  decreed  him  the  privilege  of  con- 
stantly wearing  the  triumphal  robe,  of  having  a  gilded  chair  of  state, 
and  of  taking  the  precedence  of  all  the  magistrates  of  the  common- 
wealth. He  was  allowed  a  constant  escort  of  knights  and  senators; 
his  birthday  was  ordained  to  be  solemnized  as  a  festival  through  the 
whole  empire,  and  a  temple  was  built  and  priests  appointed  to  offer 
sacrifice  unto  the  Julian  Jupiter.  It  was  generally  believed  that  he 
coveted  a  yet  more  dangerous  distinction,  and  had  determined  that 
the  title  of  king,  whicii,  from  the  days  of  the  last  Tan]uin,  had 
been  odious  to  every  Roman  ear,  should  be  revived  in  his  person. 
Tiie  report  was  current  that  a  party  of  the  senators  had  determined 
to  crown  him  in  public  by  that  title  on  the  ides  of  March.  A  con- 
spiracy had  been  for  some  time  formed,  at  the  head  of  which  were 
Marcus  Brutus  and  Caius  Cassius,  whom  Capsar  had  placed  on  the 
list  of  i)ra?tors,  and  intrusted  with  the  higher  jurisdiction  of  the  city 
— the  former  a  man  whom  he  had  reason  to  believe  most  sincerely 
attached  to  him,  as  he  had  saved  his  life  at  the  battle  of  Pharsalia, 
and  given  him  numberless  proofs  of  his  atlection.  The  conspira- 
tors determined  to  execute  their  purpose  on  that  day  wliich  had 
been  destined  for  bestowing  on  Cjcsar  the  regal  title.  He  had  no 
sooner  taken  his  place  in  tlie  senate-house,  than  the  conspirators, 
surrounding  him,  plunged  their  daggers  into  his  body  :  he  defended 
himself  for  some  lime,"ti.ll  seeinc  Brutus  among  the  assassins,  whom 
he  had  alwavs  distin2;iiisl)ed  by  the  epithet  of  his  son,  he  resigned 
himself  to  liis  fate,  and  fell,  pierced  with  twenty-three  wounds,  tt 
tiie  foot  of  Pompey's  statue 


416  t;nivkrsai,   history.  [hook  iv 

TIk;  coinpiiiilois  had  no  soontT  accomplished  iheir  ))tir|)0.so  ihan 
they  ran  lliron^h  the  streets  of  the  city,  proeliiiniiiii;  aloud  thai 
the  kiiif^  of  Home  was  dead;  l)ut  the  cd'ect  (Ynl  not  answer  their 
expectation.  The  j)eople,  ahiiost  to  a  man,  seemed  struck  with 
horror  at  the  deed.  They  loved  Cscsar,  master  as  he  was  of  their 
lives  and  liherties.  Mark  Antony,  who  was  consul,  and  Lepidus, 
•he  general  of  the  horse,  ambitious  themselves  of  succeeding  to  the 
power  of  dictator,  resolved  to  pave  the  way  for  it  by  avenging  his 
death.  The  senate  was  convoked  to  determine  whether  tlie  ordi- 
nances of  the  late  dictator  had  the  force  of  law, — that  is  to  say, 
whether  Ca3sar  was  an  usurper,  or  was  invested  with  legal  au- 
thority. It  was  a  nice  question,  but  it  required  an  immediate  de- 
termination. The  senators  were  of  opposite  opinions.  The  party 
of  the  assassins  was  formidable,  from  the  experience  of  what  they 
had  the  courage  to  attempt  :  yet  the  extreme  disorder  that  must 
have  ensued  from  annulling  all  the  laws  and  regulations  of  the 
dictator  made  it  a  thing  impossible  to  be  thought  of  in  the  present 
situation  of  afTairs.  The  senate  had  recourse  to  an  equivocal, 
and,  in  fact,  a  contradictory  decree;  which  was,  to  confirm  all  the 
laws  of  Caesar,  and  to  declare  at  the  same  time  that  his  murderers 
should  not  be  prosecuted.  But  the  latter  part  of  this  decree  was 
evaded  by  the  art  of  Antony,  who  determined  to  call  forth  the 
vengeance  of  the  people  upon  the  heads  of  those  men  whom  he 
justly  regarded  as  the  chief  obstacles  to  his  own  designs  of  am- 
bition. 

Cassar  had  adopted  Caius  Octavius,  the  grandson  of  his  sister 
Julia,  and  left  him  heir  to  the  greatest  part  of  his  fortune.  He 
had  appointed  several  of  the  conspirators  themselves  for  his  tutors, 
and  had  bequeathed  a  large  legacy  to  the  people  of  Rome,  to  be 
divided  among  the  whole  of  the  citizens.  These  bequests  redoubled 
the  affection  of  the  people,  and  they  flocked  to  attend  his  obse- 
quies, penetrated  with  the  highest  regard  to  his  memory,  and  with 
the  utmost  indignation  against  his  murderers.  Mark  Antony  took 
advantage  of  these  favorable  dispositions.  The  body  being  laid  on 
a  couch  of  state  in  the  forwn,  he  mounted  the  consul's  tribunal, 
and  after  reading  the  decree  of  the  senate,  which  had  conferred 
upon  Caesar  even  the  honors  due  to  a  divinity,  he  entered  into  an 
enumeration  of  all  his  illustrious  achievements  for  the  glory  and 
aggrandizement  of  the  state  :  he  then  proceeded  to  recount  the 
examples  of  his  clemency,  and  heightened  all  his  virtues  with  the 
most  pathetic  eloquence.  "  By  these  titles  we  have  sworn  that 
his  person  should  be  held  sacred  and  inviolable;  and  here  (said 
he)  behold  the  force  of  our  oaths."  At  these  words  he  lifted  up 
the  robe  which  covered  the  body,  and  holding  it  out  to  the  people, 
who  melted  into  tears,  he  showed  it  all  covered  with  blood,  and 
pierced  with  the  daggers  of  the  conspirators.  A  general  cry  of 
vengeance  was  heard.  The  populace  strove  to  increase  the  funeral 
nile,  by  throwing  into  it  their  most  precious  effects;  while  numbers 


B.   C.  44. J  OBSEQUIES    OF    CESAR.  4  1  ^ 

ran  to  dostioy  and  set  fire  to  the  houses  of  the  inurdere's.  These 
at  first  fled  to  the  capitol  for  safely  ;  hut  finding  their  lives  even 
there  in  tlie  utmost  hazard,  prudently  quitted  tlie  city,  and  sought 
shelter  in  (he  distant  provinces. 

The  Consul  Antony,  by  the  steps  he  had  hiiiierto  taken, 
wanted  only  to  sound  the  dispositions  of  the  people.  Finding 
these  to  his  wish,  he  very  soon  began  to  discover  his  own  views 
of  ambition.  He  was  possessed  of  the  whole  of  the  dictator's 
papers.  He  had  received  likewise  from  Calpurnia,  the  widow, 
all  the  treasures  of  Caesar.  Not  content  with  these,  he  made  a 
traffic  of  fabricating  acts  and  deeds,  to  which  he  counterfeited  tlie 
dictator's  subscription,  and  availed  himself  of  them  as  genuine. 
He  next  persuaded  the  senate,  on  pretence  that  his  personal  safety 
was  in  danger,  to  allow  him  a  guard  ;  and  under  that  decree,  he 
chose  six  thousand  of  the  ablest  veterans,  whom  he  embodied  and 
armed.  Thus  secured,  he  found  himself  absolute  master  in  Rome. 
In  all  revolutions  there  are  critical  moments  when  all  that  is  re- 
quisite to  the  attainment  of  the  supreme  power  is  the  courage  to 
assume  it. 

But  the  ambition  of  Antony  was  frustrated  by  the  measures  of 
a  rival  against  whom  he  had  not  provided.  The  young  Octavii:.; 
arrived  in  Rome;  and  declaring  himself  the  heir  of  Cresar,  foun'! 
no  other  title  necessary  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  people, — a  power- 
ful stimulant  to  the  ambitious  plan  he  had  secretly  formed  of  suc- 
ceeding to  the  full  power  of  the  dictator.  Pursuing  the  same 
object  with  Antony,  it  was  impossible  they  could  long  be  on  good 
terms.  An  open  rupture  ensued  on  account  of  the  government 
of  Cisalpine  Gaul,  which  Antony,  in  opposition  to  the  will  of  the 
dictator,  who  had  decreed  it  to  Decimus  Brutus,  endeavored  to 
secure  for  himself.  This  province,  from  its  vicinity  to  the  capital, 
was  always  of  prime  imjiortance  to  the  ruler  of  the  state. 

Octaviiis  on  this  occasion  armed  against  him,  in  order  to  enforce 
the  will  of  his  adopted  father.  He  hud  the  address  to  persuade 
the  senate  into  his  views,  and  to  inspire  them  with  a  dread  of  the 
ambition  of  his  rival.  But  after  some  indecisive  acts  of  hostility, 
Octavius  and  Antony,  finding  their  parties  very  nearly  balanced, 
judged  it  for  the  present  to  be  their  most  prudent  scheme  to  unite 
their  interests,  and  to  admit  into  their  association  Lcpidiis,  who 
then  enjoyed  the  government  of  Transalpine  Gaul.  Thus  was 
formed  the  second  triumvirate,  the  effects  of  whose  union  were 
beyond  measmc  dreadful.  Octavius,  Mark  Antony,  and  Lepidiis 
held  a  conference  in  a  small  island  in  the  middle  of  the  river  Vo. 
They  agreed  that,  under  the  title  of  Triumviri,  they  should  possess 
themselves  of  absolute  authority  ;  and  they  made  a  partition  on 
the  spot  of  all  the  provinces,  and  divided  between  them  the  com- 
mand of  the  legions.  Lepidus  had  Gallia  Narbonnensis  and 
Spain  ;  Antony  had  Cisalpine  and  Transalpine  Gaul ;  Octavius 
contented  himself  with  .\frica,  Sicily,  and  Sardinia.  None  of  them 
VOL.  I.  53 


4in  UNIVKIISAI.    IIISTOUY.  BOOK    IV 

ventured  to  np|)ro[)rialo  to  liinisclf  Italy;  because  llicy  afTected  to 
regard  that  country  as  tlic  communis  patria,  which  they  were  all 
e(jiially  hoiiml  to  protect  and  defend.  The  eastern  provinces  were 
as  yet  possessed  by  Brntus  anrl  the  other  cons|)irators,  against 
whom  it  was  d(;terniincd  that  Antony  and  Octavius  should  imme- 
diately inarch  with  a  large  army. 

Before  entering,  however,  upon  this  expedition,  it  was  resolved 
lo  clear  the  way  by  a  proscription  of  all  that  were  obnoxious  to  any 
one  of  the  triiimviri  :  a  dreadful  resolution!  since  the  firmest  friends 
of  any  one  of  the  three  had  necessarily  been  the  enemies  of  the 
others  What  souls  must  those  men  have  possessed  who  could 
advise  or  consent  to  so  horrible  a  scheme'  Lepidus  agreed  to 
sacrifice  his  brother  Paulus ;  Antony,  his  uncle  Lucius  Caesar; 
Octavius,  his  guardian  Torranius,  and  his  friend  Cicero.  The 
latter  had  been  won  by  the  flattery  of  Octavius,  lo  espouse  his 
interest  by  unmasking  the  ambitious  design  of  Antony  to  succeed 
to  the  power  of  the  dictator  ;  on  which  occasion,  Cicero  pro- 
nounced his  famous  Philippics,  in  imitation  of  the  orations  of  De- 
mosthenes to  rouse  the  spirit  of  the  Greeks  against  the  designs  of 
the  Macedonian  tyrant.  It  was  no  wonder,  then,  that  Antony 
should  mark  this  illustrious  man  as  a  certain  victim  of  his  revenge. 

Cicero,  who  had  never  been  remarkable  for  strength  of  mind, 
showed  more  magnanimity  on  this  occasion  than  he  had  ever  be- 
fore manifested.  When  informed  that  his  name  was  included  in 
the  proscription,  he  yielded  at  first  to  the  earnest  persuasion  of  his 
friends  to  attempt  to  save  himself  by  flight :  but  on  being  informed 
that  the  country  was  beset  by  his  enemies,  so  as  to  leave  no  chance 
for  his  esrajie,  he  desired  to  be  carried  to  one  of  his  own  villas. 
On  |)erceiving  the  approach  of  a  band  of  soldiers,  who  were  com- 
missioned to  assassinate  him,  he  ordered  bis  litter  to  be  stopped, 
beheld  his  murderers  with  a  fixed  regard,  and  stretched  out  his  neck 
to  the  blow.  A  fragment  of  one  of  the  lost  books  of  Livy  gives 
a  striking  description  of  this  last  scene  in  the  life  of  Cicero.  After 
judiciously  remarking,  that  amidst  all  the  reverses  of  fortune  which 
this  great  man  had  undergone,  it  was  only  on  this  last  occasion  that 
he  displayed  true  magnanimity,  the  historian  adds  these  words:  Si- 
quis  tamen  virtidibns  vitia  pensdrit^  rir  magnns^  ncer,  memoinbnlis 
fxtit^  et  in  cnjus  laudes  perseqii^ndas  Cicerone  laudatorc  opnsfiterit.* 
In  this  horrible  proscription,  300  senators  and  3,000  Roman  knights 
were  put  to  death  in  cold  blood. 

Satiated,  at  length,  with  murder,  the  triumvirate  prepared  for 
their  expedition  against  the  conspirators.  Lepidus  remained  in 
Rome,  while  Antony  and  Octavius  marched  against  Brutus  and 
Cassius,  then  in  Macedonia.     No  Roman  armies  had  ever  been 


""nut  wcinrliintT  hi3  preal   qualities    with  his    fiilintrs.  he    was  a  ereat  and 
inost  alile  man,  to  do  justice  to  whose   praises  would  require  a    ;econd  Cicero' 


B.   C.  32.]  BATTLE    OF    PHILIPPI.  419 

seen  equal  in  number  to  those  uliich  were  now  to  decide  ihe  fate 
of  tlie  world.  Each  parly  led  into  the  field  above  100,000  nwn. 
They  met  near  the  town  of  Pliilippi,  on  the  confines  of  Macedo- 
nia. This  decisive  battle  was  fought  on  both  sides  with  the  most 
desperate  courage.  Brutus  was  victorious  at  the  head  of  that  di- 
vision which  he  commanded;  but  too  rashly  |)ursuing  his  success, 
he  separated  himself  from  the  main  body  of  the  army,  which  in 
the  meantime  was  vigorously  attacked  by  Antony,  and  entirely 
broken.  Cassius,  ignorant  of  what  had  become  of  Brutus,  and 
believing  that  all  was  lost,  obliged  one  of  his  own  freedmcn  to  put 
him  to  death.  The  plan  of  Brutus,  who  had  come  off  in  safety 
with  a  large  body  of  men,  was  evidently  now  to  avoid  a  second 
engagement:  but  his  troops,  flushed  with  their  individual  success, 
forced  him  to  come  to  action,  and  he  was  totally  defeated.  Con- 
vinced that  the  chances  of  success  were  now  irretrievably  gone, 
and  well-assured  of  the  fate  he  had  to  expect  from  the  conquerors, 
he  chose  to  deprive  his  enemies  at  least  of  one  victim,  and,  fall- 
ing on  his  sword,  he  died  the  death  of  his  friend  Cassius. 

Octavius  appears  in  this  decisive  action  to  have  behaved  in  no 
heroic  manner.  It  was  even  asserted  that  he  chose  to  post  him- 
self among  the  baggage  in  the  rear,  during  the  whole  time  of  the 
engagement ;  and  such  a  report,  even  if  we  suppose  it  a  false- 
hood, is,  at  least,  a  proof  that  he  had  not  the  reputation  of  valor. 
Mark  Antony  had  real  courage,  and  after  victory  displayed  that 
generosity  which  is  ever  its  attendant;  while  the  former  exhibited 
a  cruelty  of  nature  which  is  the  inseparable  companion  of  cow- 
ardice. He  caused  the  most  distinguished  of  the  prisoners  to  be 
slanglitercd  before  his  eyes,  and  even  insulted  them  in  the  agonies 
of  death. 

The  Triumvirs  were  obliged  to  gratify  their  troops  with  very 
high  rewards.  To  furnish,  a  supply  for  that  necessary  j)urpose, 
Antony  went  into  Asia,  where  he  levied  the  most  exorbitant  con- 
tributions from  the  tributary  states.  While  in  Cilicia,  he  sum- 
moned Cleopatra,  who,  by  assassinating  her  brother,  had  secured 
to  herself  the  undivided  sovereignty  of  Egypt,  to  appear  before 
him,  and  answer  for  her  conduct  in  allowing  Serapion,  her  lieuten- 
ant in  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  to  send  succors  to  Cassius.  The  queen 
came  to  Tarsus.  Iler  beaut)-,  the  splendor  of  her  suite  and  equi- 
j)age,  and  the  artful  allurements  of  her  manners,  made  a  complete 
conquest  of  the  triumvir.  He  forgot  glory,  ambition,  Hime,  and 
every  thing  for  Cleopatra.  Octavius,  nieantimc,  thought  of  nothing 
but  his  own  interest  and  exaltation,  to  which  he  regarded  the  in- 
fatuation of  Antony  as  a  most  happy  ])rei)aralive. 

The  younger  Pom[)ey  had  taken  |iossession  of  Sicily,  of  Sardi- 
nia, and  Corsica.  Octavius  now  turned  his  attention  to  this  (]uar- 
ter;  but  incapable  himself  of  comuianding  in  a  military  expedi- 
tion, he  em|)loyed  Marcus  A'rrippa,  a  man  of  uncommon  talents, 
whom  he  had  raised  from  obscuiity  to  the  consulshij);  and  wlio 


420  IJMVF.RSAI,    HISTORY.  [dOOK    IV 

very  speedily  compcllod  Pompoy  to  ovaciintc  Sicily  aiKJ  all  iiis 
otilor  [)Ossessions,  and  fly  into  Asia,  where  he  was  put  to  death  by 
the  lieutenants  of  Antony. 

Octavius  now  determined  to  rid  himself  of  the  partners  of  hi"* 
power.  Lepidus,  a  man  of  an  indolent  character  and  no  talent, 
had  already  lost  all  credit,  even  with  his  own  troops.  The  legions 
under  his  command,  won  l)y  the  bribes  and  promises  of  Octavius, 
dr.«ertc(l  their  general,  who,  sensible  of  his  own  insufficiency, 
souglit  permission  lo  retire  to  Circ;rum,  on  the  Latian  coast, 
where  he  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  quiet  obscurity.  It 
has  been  well  remarked  of  this  man,  who  for  some  time  sustained 
a  high  part  in  the  political  drama  of  the  times,  that  he  had  neither 
those  virtues  nor  those  vices  for  which  the  names  of  men  are  trans- 
mitted with  distinction  to  posterity. 

Antony,  in  the  meantime,  intoxicated  with  Eastern  luxury  and 
debauchery,  was  daily  sinking  in  the  esteem  of  his  army.  In  the 
madness  of  his  passion  for  Cleopatra,  he  had  proclaimed  her  queen 
of  Egypt,  Cyprus,  Africa,  and  Coelo-Syria;  and  lavished  king- 
doms and  provinces  on  the  children  that  were  the  fruit  of  her  va- 
rious amours.  These  shameless  proceedings  reflected  dishonor  on 
the  Roman  name,  and  deprived  him  of  the  esteem  of  his  best 
friends;  and  the  imprudent  measure  he  now  took  in  divorcing  his 
wife  Octavia,  the  sister  of  his  colleague,  was  a  justifiable  cause  for 
their  coming  to  an  open  rupture,  and  appealing  to  the  sword  to 
decide  their  claim  to  undivided  sovereignty  of  the  empire.  Octa- 
vius had  foreseen  this  issue,  and  made  formidable  preparations, 
which  Antony  had  supinely  neglected.  He  trusted  chiefly  to  his 
fleet,  and  was  persuaded  by  Cleopatra  to  rest  the  fortune  of  the 
war  on  a  naval  engagement,  which  was  fought  near  Actium  in 
Epirus.  In  the  heat  of  the  battle,  which  was  maintained  for  some 
time  with  equal  spirit,  Cleopatra,  with  her  Egyptian  armament  of 
sixty  galleys,  took  to  flight;  and  what  is  scarcely  conceivable,  such 
was  the  infatuation  of  Antony,  that  he  followed  her,  leaving  his 
fleet  to  fight  for  themselves.  After  a  contest  of  some  hours,  they 
yielded  to  the  squadron  of  Octavius.  The  army  of  Antony, 
which  had  witnessed  this  engagement  from  the  land,  held  out  for 
a  few  days,  in  hopes  of  the  return  of  their  commander,  but  at 
length  seeing  their  expectation  vain,  they  surrendered  to  the  vic- 
tor. 

The  flight  of  Cleopatra  had  been  attributed  by  Antony  to 
female  timidity;  but  her  subsequent  conduct  gave  full  reason  to 
believe  it  shameful  treachery.  Octavius  pursued  the  fugitive? 
to  Egypt,  where  Antony,  in  desperate  infatuation,  gave  himself 
up  entirely  to  riot  and  debauchery,  still  blind  to  the  treacherous 
character  of  his  paramou>  who,  in  the  meantime,  was  carrying  on 
a  secret  negotiation  with  Octavius,  on  whom  she  vainly  imagined 
that  her  personal  charms  might  have  such  influence  as  to  procure 
her  association  in  the  supreme  power  and  government  of  the  Ro- 


CII.     HI. J  NATIONAL    CHARACTER    OF    THE    ROMAN*.  421 

man  empire.  In  this  view  she  siirrcndered  to  liiiii  the  soverei2,nty 
of  Egypt,  while,  without  positively  asseiiiing  to  her  terms,  Octa- 
vius  gave  her  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  not  disiaclined  to  an 
accommodation  that  would  gratify  her  utmost  auibition. 

iMeaniime  Octavius  advancing  with  his  army  to  besiege  Pclu- 
sium,  its  governor,  instructed  by  Cleopatra,  surrendered  the  city 
at  discretion,  and  this  event  was  followed  by  the  surrender  of  the 
Egyptian  fleet.  The  eyes  of  Antony  were  at  length  opened. 
He  plainly  saw  that  he  was  betrayed.  A  report  which  Cleopatra 
caused  to  be  spread,  that  she  had  put  an  end  to  her  life,  hastened 
the  fate  of  her  injured  lover,  who  died  by  his  own  hand;  and 
Cleopatra,  soon  after,  discovering  that  all  arts  were  lost  ii))on  Oc- 
tavius, who  had  determined  to  treat  her  as  a  captive,  now  exe- 
cuted in  reality  what  she  had  before  feigned,  and  j)ut  herst^lf  to 
death  by  the  poison  of  an  asp. 

Octavius  returned  to  Italy,  sole  master  of  the  Roman  Empire 
lie  owed  his  elevation  to  no  manly  virtue  or  heroism  of  character 
A  concurrence  of  happy  circumstances,  the  aiioption  of  the   great 
Julius,  the  weakness  of  Lepidus,  the  folly  and  infatuation  of  An- 
tony, the   treachery  of  Cleopatra,  and,  above  all,  his  own  address 
and  artifice,  were  the  instruments  of  his  fortune. 

At  this  remarkable  period,  the  end  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
Rome,  it  may  be  well  to  suspend  for  a  while  our  historical  narra- 
tive, and  interpose  some  brief  observations  on  the  general  charac- 
ter of  Roman  education  ;  the  state  of  literature  at  this  period  ;  the 
predominant  tastes  and  passions  of  this  remarkable  people  ;  and 
the  system  of  their  military  art. 


CHAPTER   III. 


{yn  llie  Cioniiis  and    Nalionnl  Cliamctor  of  thn  Roman* — Sysfom  of  Roinsn  E<v 
uuatioii — I'roirresa  of  Liloralure — The  Drama — Histwrians — I'ocU. 

In  the  present  chapter,  we  are  to  attend  to  those  particular  cir- 
cumstances which  appear  most  peculiarly  to  mark  the  genius,  and 
to  have  formed  the  national  cliaracter  of  the  Romans. 

A  virtuous  but  rigid  severity  of  manners  was  the  cliaractoristic 
of  the  Romans  under  their  kings,  and  during  the  fn-st  ages  of  the 
republic.  The  private  life  of  tlic  citizens  was  frugal,  temperate, 
and  laborious,  and   it  reflected  its  influence  on  their  public  cliatac 


422  uMVKiisAL  iiisTOfiv.  [nooK  IV 

tcr.  Tlie  cliildren  iiiiljihed  from  llicir  infancy  the  liii^liest  venera- 
tion for  llieir  paicnls,  who,  from  ihe  extent  of  the  paternal  power 
among  the  Romans,  had  an  unlimited  authority  over  their  wives, 
their  ollspring,  and  their  slaves.  It  is  far  from  natural  to  the  hu- 
man mind  that  the  possession  of  power  and  authority  should  form 
ii  ivrannical  disposition.  Where  that  authority,  indeed,  has  been 
usurpf'd  hy  violence,  its  possessor  may,  periiaps,  be  tempted  to 
maintain  it  by  tyranny  ;  but  where  it  is  either  a  rigiit  dictated  by 
nature,  or  the  easy  efiect  of  circumstances  and  situation,  the  very 
consciousness  of  authority  is  apt  to  inspire  a  beneficence  and  hu- 
manity in  the  manner  of  exercising  it.  Thus  we  find  the  anc  ent 
Rotnans,  although  absolute  sovereigns  in  their  families,  with  the 
jus  vitrn  et  necis,  the  right  of  life  and  death  over  their  children, 
and  their  slaves,  were  yet  excellent  husbands,  kind  and  afTectiunate 
parents,  humane  and  indulgent  masters.  Nor  was  it  until  luxury 
had  corrupted  the  virtuous  simplicity  of  the  ancient  manners,  that 
this  paternal  authority,  degenerating  into  tyrannical  abuses,  reijuir- 
ed  to  be  abridged  in  its  power,  and  restrained  in  its  exercise  by  the 
enactment  of  law's. 

By  an  apparent  contradiction,  so  long  as  the  paternal  authority 
was  absolute,  the  slaves  and  children  were  happy:  when  it  became 
weakened  and  abridged,  then  it  was  that  its  terrors  were,  from  the 
excessive  corruption  of  manners,  most  severely  felt.  Even,  how- 
ever, under  the  first  emperors,  the  Patria  Potestas  remained  in  its 
full  force,  and  the  custom  of  the  patresfamilias  sitting  at  meals 
with  their  slaves  and  children,  showed  that  there  still  remained 
<ome  venerable  traces  of  that  ancient  and  virtuous  simplicity.* 

Plutarch,  in  his  comparison  between  Numa  and  Lycurgus,  has 
bestowed  a  severe  censure  on  the  Roman  lawgiver,  for  his  neg- 
lecting to  establish  a  system,  or  to  institute  any  fixed  rules  for  the 
education  of  the  Roman  youth.  But  the  truth  is,  that  although 
the  laics  prescribed  no  such  system,  or  general  plan  of  discipline, 
like  those  of  Sparta,  yet  there  never  existed  a  people  who  bestowed 
njore  attention  on  the  education  of  their  youth.  In  the  dialogue, 
De  Omtoribus,f  attributed  by  some  authors  to  Tacitus,  by  others 
to  Quintilian,  there  is  a  fine  passage  which  shows  in  a  remarkaole 
manner  that  extreme  care  bestowed,  even  in  the  earliest  infancy, 
to  form  the  manners  and  disposition  of  the  Roman  children.  From 
this  passage  we  learn,  that  in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  Roman  com- 
monwealth, such  was  that  anxious  care  bestowed  on  their  children 
by  the  Roman  matrons, — such  that  jealousy  of  their  receiving  any 
of  their  eailiest  impressions  from  slaves  or  domestics, — that  they 


*"0  noctes  CQ»n!Pque  Dciim,  qnibus  ipse,  mrique 
Ante  Lnrem  proprium  vescor,  vernasque  procaces 
Fasco  libalis  dapibus  prout  cuique  libido  est." 

IIOKACE. 

*  Dialogus  de  Oratoribus,  cap.  xxviii.     "  Jampridem  suus  cuique  filiusi '  &.0 


CII.    III.]  IIOMA.V    EDUCATIOX.  423 

not  only  educated  their  own  children,  but  accounted  it  an  honor 
able  employnient  to  superintend  and  assist  in  educating  the  child 
ren  of  their  relations. 

Nor  was  this  task  of  the  mother  confined  only  to  the  years  ol 
infancy  and  boyhood  :  it  extentled  its  influence  to  the  more  ad 
vanced  periods  of  youth.  At  a  much  later  period  of  the  Roman 
history,  we  are  informed  by  Tacitus,  in  his  Life  of  Agricola,  that 
this  remarkable  man  had  begun  in  his  youth  to  pursue  too  ardently 
the  study  of  philosophy,  but  that  he  was  checked  by  the  prudent 
remonstrances  of  his  mother.* 

To  inspire  that  severe  and  rigid  virtue  which  can  alone  suppcal 
a  democratic  ft)rm  of  governm(?nt,  and  to  inculcate  that  exclusive 
love  of  our  country,  before  which,  in  their  early  ages,  every  private 
or  personal  feeling  was  constrained  to  bow,  was  the  first  and  most 
facred  duty  of  these  noble  matrons.  The  circumstances  in  which 
the  commonwealth  was  situated  in  its  earlier  ages  made  this  abso- 
lutely necessary.  It  possessed  none  of  those  artificial  modes  of 
defence  so  generally  employed  by  the  modern  nations.  The  im- 
provements of  iriodcrn  warfare,  which  substitute  skill  so  often  in 
the  [)lace  of  valor, — the  fortifications  of  our  modern  cities,  which 
render  them,  in  some  measure,  independent  of  the  personal  exer- 
tions of  those  who  defend  thein, — had  not  been  introduced  amongst 
this  virtuous  people.  Those  refinements,  also,  in  the  arts  and  man- 
ufactures which  exchange  the  little  enjoyments  of  private  comfort 
for  the  iiigher  feelings  of  public  happiness,  and  even  that  progress 
in  the  sciences,  which,  however  excellent  in  its  general  conserpien- 
ces,  encourages  certainly  a  spirit  of  exclusion  most  uncongenial  to 
public  exertion, — all  these  were  either  unknown  or  despised  in  the 
severer  ages  of  the  Roman  republic. 

Next  to  this  care  of  the  mother,  or  the  female  tutor,  in  instilline 
the  rigid  principle  of  patriotic  virtue,  a  very  remarkable  degree  of 
attention  appears  to  have  been  bestowed  by  the  Romans  in  accus- 
toming their  children  to  correctness  of  language  and  purity  of  ex- 
pression. Cicero  informs  us  that  the  Gracchi  were  educated  non 
tam  in  gremio  qunm  in  sennone  matris.  And  in  speaking  of  Cu- 
rio, who  was  one  of  the  best  orators  of  his  time,  he  adds,  that 
without  possessing  the  rules  of  his  art,  and  without  any  knowledge 
of  the  laws,  he  had  attained  to  eminence  f  merely  from  the  ele- 
gance and  purity  of  his  diction. 

This  attention  to  the  language  of  children  may  appear,  in  these 
modern  days,  an  absurd  and  useless  refinement.  Among  the  Ro- 
nians  it  was  not  thought  so.     They  were  well  aware  Imw  mucb 


•  "  Memoria  teneo  soliliim  ipsiiin  nartarp,  bp  in  priinn  juvrnLA  sludiuin  phi- 
losophirE  ac  juris  ultra  quam  ni>nr(\ssiiin  Itnmano  nc  S«Minti«ri  huussissp,  tii  priv 
denlia  inatris  incenauin  ac  lla;jriinU'iii  aniimim  cocrcuisset."  —  Taeitut  igrm 
Vit.,  c.  iv. 

!  In  Libro  ile  Claris  Oratoribus.     AI.  edit.,  folio,  vol.  ii.  p.  2.")7. 


421  UMvr-.nsAL  ihstoiiy  [kook  iv. 

Uie  mail  is  iiilluciiccd  by  llie  earliest  impressions  and  liubits  of  in- 
fancy. They  suspected,  and  not  without  just  grounds,  thai  they 
who  became  familiar  with  the  language  and  expressions  of  their 
slaves,  were  likely  to  be  initiated  also  in  their  vices,  and  to  become 
'econciled  to  their  ideas  of  servility  and  dependence.  That  ur- 
banity upon  which  this  people  so  much  prided  themselves  in  the 
iiore  advanced  periods  of  the  commonwealth,  was  nothing  else 
•ban  a  certain  manly  elegance  which  distinguished  the  Roman  citi- 
tens  from  those  nations  whom  they  accounted  barbarous.  This 
elegance  was  particularly  evinced  in  their  speech  and  gestures, 
tnd  it  was  one  of  their  first  objects  to  form  their  youth  with  those 
.jualities  in  which  they  most  piqued  themselves  in  excelling.  To 
accustom  a  child  to  speak  in  a  manly  manner  is,  in  fact,  no  unlikely 
method  of  teaching  him  to  act  so.*  But  this  attention  to  the 
language  of  their  youth  had  another  source  among  tlie  Romans. 
It  was  by  the  art  of  eloquence,  by  the  power  wliicli  that  talent 
gave  them  over  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  the  influence  which  it 
possessed  in  the  open  deliberations  of  the  popular  assemblies,  that 
the  young  Romans  could  alone  rise  to  eminence,  to  office,  and  to 
dignity.  History  is  full  of  exami)les  of  men  who,  by  their  excel- 
lence in  this  talent  alone,  had  risen  from  the  lowest  condition 
amongst  the  plebeians,  to  the  highest  ranks  in  the  state.  To  instil, 
therefore,  at  an  early  age,  the  elements  of  elocution,  and  to  habit- 
uate the  youth  to  those  studies  properly  called  forensic,  was  one 
great  object  of  the  Roman  education.  As  an  exercise  of  mcmoi-}', 
the  children  were  taught  to  repeat  the  laws  of  the  XII  Tables, 
and  they  were  accustomed  very  early  to  plead  fictitious  causes. 
Plutarch  tells  us,  in  his  life  of  the  younger  Cato,  that,  among  the 
sports  or  plays  of  the  Roman  children,  one  was  that  of  pleading 
causes  before  a  mock  tribunal,  and  accusing  and  defending  a  crimi- 
nal in  all  the  accustomed  forms  of  judicial  procedure. 

The  exercises  of  the  bod}-  were  likewise  particularly  attended 
to.  Wrestling,  running,  boxing,  swimming,  using  the  bow  and 
javelin,  managing  the  horse,  and,  in  short,  whatever  might  harden 
the  body  and  increase  its  strength  and  activity,  were  all  reckoned 
necessary  parts  of  education.  Most  of  these  warlike  exercises 
were  practised  daily  in  the  Campus  Martins.  The  elder  Cato  not 
only  instructed  his  son  in  grammar,  and  in  the  study  of  the  law, 
but  taught  him  also  all  these  athletic  accomplishments. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen,  which  was  the  period  wlien  the  young 
Roman  assumed  the  toga  virilis,  the  youth  was  committed  by  his 
father  to  the  care  of  one  of  the  masters  or  public  professors  of 
rhetoric,  whom  he  attended  constantly  to  the  forum,  and  there  em- 
ployed himself  in  taking  notes  from  the  speakers,  of  whose  ha- 
rangues he  afterwards  gave  an  account  to  his  preceptor. 


•  "  Talis  hominibus  oratio  qualis  vita."     Seneca  Episl.  114 


CII.    HI.]  ROMAN    EDUCATION.  425 

It  must  not  appear  extraordinary  that  this  mode  of  ediicaiion 
should  have  been  common  to  all  the  ycung  patricians,  whether 
their  inclination  led  them  to  the  camp  or  to  the  bar  ;  for  as  every 
citizen  of  Rome  was  a  branch  of  its  legislative  system,  the  profes- 
sion of  arms  became  no  apology  for  the  want  of  that  ability  of 
maintaining  the  rights  of  the  state  in  the  assemblies  of  the  people, 
which  was  equally  necessary  with  the  capacity  of  defending  them 
in  the  field.  If  a  public  officer  was  accused,  it  was  reckoned 
shameful  if  he  could  not  himself  give  an  account  of  his  conduct, 
and  plead  his  own  cause.  A  senator  who  could  not  support  his 
opinion  by  the  ingenuity  of  argument  or  force  of  eloquence,  was 
an  object  of  contempt  to  the  people.  "  Paruin  fuit  in  senatu 
bi'cviter  censere,  nisi  qui  ingenio  et  eloquentia  sententiam  suam  te- 
neretur  ;  disertum  haberi,  pulchrum  ct  gloriosum,  sed  contra  mu- 
luni  et  elinguem  videri  deforme  haliebatur."  But  it  was  not  alone 
the  cultivation  of  eloquence  which  was  esteemed  a  necessary  part 
of  education.  It  was  reckoned  dishonorable  for  any  person  of  the 
patrician  rank  not  to  have  thoroughly  studied  the  laws  and  the  con- 
stitution of  his  country.  In  one  of  the  laws  of  the  Roman  pan- 
dects, an  anecdote  is  recorded  of  Sulpitius,  a  gentleman  of  the 
patrician  order,  who  had  occasion  to  resort  for  advice  to  Quintu? 
Mucins  Scaevola,  then  the  most  eminent  lawyer  in  Rome.  Though 
otherwise  an  accomplished  orator,  Sulpitius  had  neglected  the  study 
of  the  law,  and,  from  ignorance  of  the  technical  terms,  lie  did  not 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  ScKvola's  opinion'^  upon  which  he 
received  from  the  lawyer  this  memorable  reproof,  "that  it  was  a 
shame  for  a  patrician,  a  nobleman,  and  an  orator,  to  be  ignorant  of 
that  law  in  which  he  was  so  particularly  concerned."  Sulpitius 
felt  the  reproach,  and  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  jurisprudence, 
in  which  he  became  so  eminent  as,  in  Cicero's  opinion,  to  excel 
Sca^vola  himself.* 

To  be  an  accomplished  gentleman,  therefore,  it  was  necessary 
among  the  Romans  to  be  an  accomplished  lawyer  and  orator;  and 
what  were  the  requisites  for  atlaininj;  eminence  in  those  depart- 
ments, we  may  learn  from  the  writings  of  Cicero,  Quintilian,  and 
the  vo^nger  Pliny.  The  {)ains  those  illustrious  men  bestowed  to 
arrive  at  that  excellence  which  distinguished  them,  appear  almost 
incredible  to  those  bred  up  in  the  less  laborious  eflbrts  of  modern 
literature.  Pliny,  in  speaking  o/  his  public  orations,  whicij  ho 
always  committed  to  writing,  describes  thus  the  labor  of  their  revi- 
sion : — "  Nullum  emendandi  genus  omitto  ;  ac  primum  quae  scripsi 
mecum  ipse  ])eriracto  ;  deindc  duobus  aut  tribus  lego,  mox  aliis 
trado  adnotanda,  notasqtie  eorum  si  dubito  cum  iino  rursns  aut  al- 
tero  pensito  ;  novissiuio  pluribus  recito  ;  ac  si  quid  milii  credis 
acerrime  emendo  ;  cogito  qnam  sit  magnum  dare  aliquid  in  inaiuw 


•  !^i<jost.  lib.  i.  lit.  ii.  sec.  43. 
VOL.     I  51 


426  UNIVERSAI-    mSTORV.  [hook   IV 

lioniiiiiiin,  iipc  pcrsiiadere  milii  possuni  non  et  cum  muliis  ct  sxpe 
trart;iii(liiin  (iiiod  placcre  et  semper  et  omnibus  cupias.* 

Such  were  tlie  pains  bestowed  by  Pliny  to  attain  the  character 
of  an  acc'jmphshed  writer, — a  degree  of  industry,  however,  for 
which  he  does  not  seem  to  claim  any  extraordinary  merit  as  for  a 
labor  'niconmion  amongst  the  authors  of  his  time.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  same  author,  speaking  of  the  studies  of  his  uncle  the 
elder  Pliny,  modestly  styles  himself  an  indolent  man,  when  com- 
pared to  that  prodigy  of  industry  and  application,  with  the  mannei 
of  whose  singular  life  we  shall  become  more  intimately  acquainted 
when  treating  of  the  state  ofpkilosophij  among  the  Romans. 

When  an  attention  to  rhetoric  and  the  art  of  composition  waa 
thus  once  introduced,  the  progress  of  general  literature  in  the  Ro- 
man republic  was  singularly  rapid  ;  and  it  may  here  be'  made  an 
object  of  pleasing  as  well  as  of  useful  investigation,  to  attempt  a 
brief  delineation  of  the  progress  of  literature  amongst  this  remarK- 
able  people,  from  its  earliest  stages  to  its  highest  advancement, 
shortly  remarking,  as  we  proceed,  tlie  peculiar  genius  and  charac- 
ter of  the  principal  authors  who  have  become  distinguished  under 
Its  different  eras.  Superficial,»certainly,  and  imperfect  every  ac- 
count of  this  kind  must  be,  from  that  brevity  which  the  nature  of 
our  plan  demands. 

The  poetical  spirit  appears  almost  coeval  with  the  very  rudest 
condition  of  society.  Other  branches  of  human  knowledge  which 
have  arisen  in  the  gradual  progress  of  improvement,  have  owed 
their  origin  to  the  wandering  and  adventurous  spirit  of  the  species, 
or  to  the  wants  and  sufferings  of  mankind  ;  but  poetry  seems  to 
have  been  created  with  man,  and  is  contemporaneous  with  his  Ian 
guage  ;  and  what  is  more  remarkable,  it  is  in  this  early  age  that 
poetry  often  assumes  its  highest  character,  and  arrives  at  its  great- 
est perfection. 

Language,  m  the  early  periods  of  every  nation,  is  in  a  very  rude 
condition,  and  it  is  in  this  imperfection  and  apparent  barrenness  of 
the  language  that  we  shall  find  one  cause  for  the  lofty  tone  as- 
sumed by  the  poetry.  The  words  are  kw  but  they  are  invariably 
expressive.  They  are  descriptive  of  the  strongest  passions,  of  the 
deepest  feelings  of  the  human  heart — of  patriotism  and  valor,  of 
grief  and  joy,  of  triumph  and  despair,  of  love  and  hatred  ; — of 
such  feelings  as  are  to  be  found  amongst  every  uncultivated  peo- 
ple— when  nature  is  certainly  comparatively  in  a  savage  state  ;    jul 


"  I  neglect  no  possible  mode  of  correction  and  emendation;  and  in  tlie  first 
place,  aflor  I  have  wriUen  an  oration,  1  carefully  revise  it  by  myself;  I  then  read 
It  orer  to  two  or  three  friends  ;  afterwards  I  submit  it  to  others  for  their  anno- 
tations, and  if  1  doubt  the  justice  of  their  criticisms,  I  canvass  them  with  each; 
lastly,  I  recite  the  oration  to  a  larjje  assembly  of  my  friends;  and  believe,  even 
lifter  this,  I  carefully  reconsider  and  revise  it.  I  hold  it  no  light  matter  to 
come  before  tlie  public;  nar  can  I  pL-rsuade  myself  that  less  pains  are  requisite 
on  the  part  of  an  orator  who  aims  at  general  and  lasting  approbation." 


CH.   III.]  ROMAN  LITERATUUE.  4*27 

when  none  of  those  fantastic  and  ariificial  iileas,  and  ihcri'fure 
none  of  those  low  and  insipid  expressions  liave  been  introduced, 
which  invariably  accompany  the  ])rocess  of  luxury  and  rcfinonient. 
In  the  ancient  languages  of  a  rude  people  we  find  no  redundancy 
of  expletives,  no  unnecessary  woixls,  no  unmeaning  synonymcs; 
because  language  is  formed  to  describe  what  passes  in  the  minds, 
or  before  the  eyes  of  those  who  use  it.  Even  in  tlieir  conunon 
discourse,  and  still  more  in  their  war-songs,  or  their  solemn  ha- 
rangues, the  speakers  were  actually  compelled  to  be  nervous,  con- 
cise, and  frequently  metaphorical.  The  high-flown  and  figurative 
style  must  have  then  become  as  much  a  matter  of  necessity,  owing 
to  the  barrenness  of  the  language,  as  the  effect  of  taste  or  imagin- 
ation. Wlien  man  first  found  himself  in  society,  the  Almighty,  in 
the  language  which  he  created  for  him,  did  not  furn  sh  him  with 
what  was  calculated  to  delineate  the  minuter  feelings  of  the  heart, 
or  the  more  detailed  and  delicate  scenery  of  nature;  but  with 
that  broad  and  bolder  pencil  which  could  describe  those  conflicting 
passions  which  then  tore  his  mind,  or  those  awful  solitudes  with 
which  he  was  then  surrounded. 

In  the  infancy  of  any  people,  and  consequently  in  the  infancy 
of  their  language,  we  must  also  recollect  that  there  are  none  of 
those  arbitrary  rules  of  composition,  which  the  progress  of  litera- 
ture has  introduced.  The  effect  of  these  is  often  to  trammel  the 
flights  of  genius,  and  often  to  shelter  the  efforts  of  mediocrity. 
Tliose  in  the  community  of  moderate  genius,  or  comparatively 
lower  talents,  are  encouraged  to  intrude  their  minor  efforts  into 
notice,,  whilst  the  retired  spirits,  whose  genius  and  talents  fit 
them  for  a  higher  course,  will  not  stoop  to  such  unequal  compe- 
tition. 

There  is  yet  one  odicr  cause  of  die  excellence  of  early  poetry, 
which,  before  proceeding  to  that  of  the  Romans,  we  may  very 
briefly  notice:  I  mean  that  which  is  generally  to  be  found  in  the 
character  and  habits  of  the  poet  himself,  and  in  the  circumstance 
of  their  poems  having  been  addressed  to  the  whole  body  of  the' 
people.  A  moment's  reflection  will  show  that  these  two  circum- 
stances must,  in  a  great  measure,  form  the  style  of  the  national 
poetry,  and,  of  course,  regulate  the  lone  of  the  national  taste. 

In  reading  the  Agamemnon  of  ^schylus,  who  is  there  that  will 
not  discover  that  he  is  perusing  the  poetry  of  a  warrior,  who  felt 
in  the  memory  of  the  battles  in  which  he  has  fought,  die  full  force 
of  his  own  energetic  descriptions,  who  lived  in  the  midst  of  the 
scenery  which  he  paints  from,  and  who  aildressed  himself  not  to 
any  particular  set  of  men  who  regulated  the  public  taste,  not  to 
the  senate,  to  the  academy,  or  to  the  camj)  alone,  but  directed  his 
efforts  to  the  great  body  of  the  .'\thrniau  people,  from  whose 
feelings,  and  wliose  taste,  he  looked  for  his  proudest  and  most  last- 
ing applause.     When  we  dwell  with  enthusiasm  on  the  sublimity 


428  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY.  [bOOK  IV 

of  the  ScaiitlJnavian  sagos,  or  ihe  eloquence  of  the  North  Ameri- 
can warriors,  we  are  tracing  the  very  same  eflects  produced  by 
the  same  causes  above  enumerated.  The  poets  lived  and  wrote  in 
the  midit  of  that  sublime  scenery  from  which  they  drew  their 
noblest  pictures:  they  were  themselves  free,  and  they  felt  deeply 
the  passions  which  agitate  the  mind  in  the  ruder  periods  of  society, 
and  they  addressed  their  equals  in  the  body  of  the  j)eople,  who 
knew  well  how  to  distinguish  their  errors,  and  appreciate  their 
success. 

The  history  of  this  delightful  art,  in  ancient  as  well  as  in  more 
modern  times,  will,  as  we  trace  its  future  progress,  be  found  to 
exemplify  in  a  striking  manner  the  truth  of  these  remarks. 
Among  all  nations,  as  has  been  said,  the  first  dawning  of  the  liter- 
ary sjjirit  is  shown  in  poetical  composition.  The  Roman  warrior, 
like  the  Indian,  or  the  Gothic,  had  his  war-songs,  which  celebrated 
his  sagacity  in  council  and  liis  triumphs  in  tlie  field.  But  none  of 
these  relics  of  the  first  Roman  poetry  have  reached  our  days 
After  the  establishment  of  a  closer  political  union,  and  the  intro- 
duction of  a  national  religion,  if  the  nation  subsists,  as  in  the  early 
ages  of  Rome,  by  agriculture,  their  poetry  assumes  a  new  char- 
acter. The  verses  in  praise  of  the  gods,  whom  they  believed 
to  preside  over  the  year,  and  to  regulate  the  fruiifulness  of  the 
seasons,  and  the  rude  but  joyful  songs  which  commemorated  the 
close  of  the  harvest,  were  examples  of  this  second  style.  These 
last  are  particularly  mentioned  by  Llvy  under  the  name  of  the 
Versus  Fescennini,  which  were  sung  alternately  by  the  laborers 
and  which  were  composed  in  a  strain  of  rude  and  mirthful  poetry, 
but  not  unsparingly  tinged  with  ribaldry  and  licentiousness. 

About  the  390tli  year  of  Rome,  the  city  had  been  reduced  to 
extreme  distress  by  a  pestilence,  and  an  uncommon  method  was 
adopted  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  in  sending  into  Etruria 
for  drolls  or  stage-dancers.  The  dances  of  these  Etrurians,  ac- 
cording to  Livy,  were  not  ungraceful,  and  the  Roman  youth  readily 
'learned  to  imitate  their  performances,  adding  to  them  their  own 
fescennine  ballads,  which  they  recited  to  the  sound  of  music  w  th 
api)ropriate  gestures.  Here  evidently  was  the  first  rise  of  dra- 
matic performances  amongst  the  Romans;  but,  as  yet.  all  was 
rude  and  imperfect,  and  they  were  altogether  ignorant  of  the  reg- 
ular structure  of  a  dramatic  composition.  This  they  acquired  the 
first  idea  of  from  the  Greeks.  Euripides  and  Sophocles  had 
flourished  nearly  160  years,  and  jNIenander  above  50  years,  before 
this  period.  The  dramatic  poem  was,  at  this  time,  in  the  highest 
celebrity  in  Greece,  and  was  at  length,  about  the  year  of  Rome 
514,  introduced  into  that  commonwealth  by  Livlus  Andronicus,  a 
Greek  slave. 

To  Livius  Andronicus,  whose  compositions,  in  the  judgment  of 
Cicero,  did  not  merit  a  second  perusal,  succeeded  Na^vius  and 


CH.    III.]  ROMAN'    LITERATURE.  429 

Ennius.*  Naevius,  probably,  only  imitated  and  improved  u])on 
the  rude  compositions  of  Andronicus  ;  but  Ennius  was  the  first 
who,  as  Lucretius  tells  us,   deserved    a   lasting   crown    from  the 

Muses  : — 


-Enn 


1U3  qui  primus  amcRno 


Detulit  ex  Hclicoiie    percnni  fronde  coronam."  f 

The  fragments  of  Ennius  which  have  come  down  to  our  time 
illustrate  strongly  the  observations  which  we  have  above  made  on 
the  cliaracter  of  the  early  poetical  productions  of  most  rude 
nations.  His  poetry  is  bold  and  energetic  ;  his  sentiments  often 
noble  :  his  diction  careless  but  vigorous  ;  his  versification  rude  and 
imperfect  ;  he  trusted  to  his  genius  for  his  future  fame,  and  left 
the  niceties  of  art  and  versification  to  his  more  polished  descend- 
ants. One  of  these  has  finely  drawn  his  character  in  a  single 
line  :  — 

"  Ennius  ingenio  inaximus,  arte  rudis.  " 

Otid.   Trist.  book  ii.  v.  -l.'G. 

From  the  time  of  Eimius,  dramatic  poetry  made  a  rapid  ad- 
vancement ;  for  the  intercourse  with  Greece,  after  the  Punic  wars 
had  an  almost  immediate  effect  in  promoting  the  literary  spirit 
which  first  evinced  itself  in  the  improvement  of  the  drama. 

"  Post  Punica  bella  quietus  quterere  cepit, 
Quid  Sophocles  et  Tliespis  et  /TLscliylus  utile  ferrent." 

Then  krose  Plautus,  the  first  who  may  be  said  to  have  propos- 
ed to  hitnself  nature  as  his  model,  but  nature  in  so  low  and  coarse 
an  aspect  as  to  make  us  feel  often  more  disgusted  than  delighted 
with  the  vulgar  fidelity  of  his  pictures.  It  is,  indeed,  something 
like  a  profanation  of  the  name  of  nature,  to  believe  that  those 
authors  who   have  studied  in  the  very  lowest  school  of  vice  and 


"  Ennius  was  a  genius  of  very  nncnmmon  powers  from  nature,  and  thepe 
hi?  had  improved  by  an  intimate  acquaintance  witii  Gn'ck  literature.  He  com 
posed,  in  liexamcter  verse,  the  Annals  of  the  Putiic  War;  a  poem  on  Scipio; 
a  book  of  Epigrams  or  Inscriptions  :  and  above  forty  dramatic  pieces  in  lambin 
verse;  of  all  tliese,  nothinir  but  a  few  fratrmenls  remain.  Like  most  original 
geniuses,  he  was  abundantly  conscious  of  his  own  merits,  as  appears  from  llie 
inscription  he  composed  for  a  statue  of  himself: — 

"  Aspice  O  cives  senis  Ennii  imarrinis  formam. 
Hie  vestrum  panxit  maxima  facta  [)atriim. 
Nemo  me  lacrimis  decoret,  neque  funera  Helu. 
Faxit.  cur.?  volitovivu  per  ora  viriim." 
The   followinjj    picturesque    description  of  the  dead  of  night,  by   F'/inius,  u 
the  production  of  a  sublime  imagination  : — 

"  Mundus  cfEli  vastus  constitit  silentio. 
Ex   Neptunns  sfpvus  undisasperis  pausam  detit 
Sol  equis  iter  repressit  ungulis  volantibiis  ; 
Consistcre  amnes  peri'nnes,^rl)oros  vento  vacant." 
There  are  many  beautiful  sinirle  lines  to  be  fiund  scattered  amongst  the  frtg 
ments  which  have  reached  our  time,  but  few  perfect  passages, 
t  "  F.nnins.  who  robbed  tlie  Heliconian  fount 
Of  the  first  hajs  to  deck  his  honored  front." 


130  UNIVERSAL  mSTOUV.  [nOOK   IV. 

pro/ligacy,  who  have  copied  liimiaii  manners  in  llieir  most  degrad- 
ed condiiion,  have  had  iialmc  for  their  inodeh  These  observa- 
tions are  pariinilaily  apj)liciible  to  the  (hamatic  works  of  Plautus, 
who  has  descriljcd  naliire  not  as  she  really  was,  Imt  as  transfigured 
by  the  vice  and  impurity  of  man.  The  general  Latinity  of  Plau- 
tus is  nervous  and  concise.  It  is  pure,  it  is  sometimes,  perhaps, 
elegant,  when  we  understand  purity  in  opposition  to  the  being 
Qorid  or  figurative  ;  but  it  is  too  crowded  with  Gra^cisms,  and  the 
wit  is  too  coarse  and  hcentious,  not  to  reflect  somewhat  of  the 
^ame  character  on  the  style. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  we  have  no  remains  of  the  dramatic  works 
of  Cacciiius,  an  author  who  improved  so  highly  on  the  comedy 
of  Plautus,  that  Cicero  declares  liim  perhaps  the  best  of  the  comic 
writers. 

Terence  niade  his  first  appearance  when  Caecilius  was  at  the 
height  of  his  reputation.  It  is  said  that,  when  he  offered  his  first 
piay  to  the  iEdiles,  they  sent  him  with  it  to  Ca?ciliug  for  his  judg- 
ment of  the  piece.  Caecilius  was  then  at  supper  ;  and  as  the 
young  bard  was  very  meanly  dressed,  he  was  bid  to  sit  behind  on 
a  low  stool,  and  to  read  his  composition.  Scarcely,  however,  had 
he  read  a  few  sentences,  when  Ca:cilius  desired  him  to  approach, 
and  placed  him  at  the  table  next  to  himself.  His  reputation  arose 
at  once  to  such  a  height,  that  his  "  Eunuchus,"  on  its  fir§t  appear- 
ance, was  i)ublicly  performed  twice  each  day.* 

There  is  in  the  comedy  of  Terence  a  tone  of  truth  and  nature 
which  distinguishes  all  its  parts.  It  is  discernible  in  the  general 
simplicity  of  the  plot,  in  the  feelings  and  sentiments  of  his  char 
acters,  in  the  perfect  purity  and  familiar  elegance  of  his  language. 
But.  what  Terence  wanted  was  that  strong  command  of  ludricrous 
imagery,  that  vis  comica,  or  comic  energy,  which  is  frequently  to 
be  traced  in  Plautus. 

There  were   four  difi'erent  species  of  comedy  among  the  Ro 
mans: — the  Comccdia  Togata,  or  Prcetextata;   the  ComcecJia  Tab 
ernarin;    the  Jllellancc;  and  the  JMimi.     The  Togata  or  Prc-etex 
tata  admitted  serious  personages,  and   was   probably  of  the  naturp 
of  the  modern  sentimental  comedy.     The  comedies   of  Terence 
may  probably  be  numbered  in   this  class.     The  Comoedia  Taber 
iii-rifi  was  a  representation    of  ordinary  life,  and    had    nothing  of 
dignity  in  its  composition,  though  it  did  not  descend  to  bufilaonery. 
The  Comoedlae  Atellanae  were  pieces  which  were  not  committed 
to  writing.     The  actors  had  the  outlines  of  the  comedy  prescribed 
to  them,  and   the  subject  of  the  different  scenes  ;    but  they  filled 


•  Terence  wns  contemporary  with  Scipio  and  Lirlius,  and  is  said  to  have  owed 
a  great  deal  to  llieir  conversation  and  critical  advice.  Nay.  Cicero  tells  us  that 
it  was  rumored  that  some  of  these  comedies  which  pass  under  the  name  ot 
Terence  were  actually  written  by  Scipio  and  Ltelius,  particularly  the  lieauton 
Timrouineuos,  and  the  Adelphi. 


CH.   III. J  ROMAN    LITERATURE.  431 

up  the  clialoiij;ue  from  their  own  imaginations,  in  the  bdine  manner 
as  in  the  pieces  of  Itahan  comedy  performed  at  Paris  in  the  lasl 
centur}'.  This  species  of  representation,  as  it  required  more 
true  genius  in  the  actor  than  any  other  department  of  dramatic 
performance,  was  appropriated  to  the  higher  classes  of  the  Ro- 
man youth,  wiio  would  not  permit  the  ordinary  comedians  to 
attempt  it. 

The  Mimi  have  heen  pariicularly  described  in  an  earlier  part 
if  this  work,  in  treating  of  the  state  of  the  dramatic  art  amongst 
ho  Greeks.  They  consisted  of  pieces  of  comedy  of  the  very 
owest  species,  more  properly  farces  or  entertainments  of  buflbon- 
jry,  from  which  all  dignity,  and  not  unfrequently  all  decorum  was 
oani-?hed  ;  yet  as  the  desire  of  variety  in  the  compositions  of  art 
ivill  excite  to  new  experiments,  we  find  the  Roman  actors  would, 
in  the  middle  of  the  performance  of  a  mimus,  surprise  and  delight 
(heir  audience 'by  some  unexpected  stroke  of  the  pathetic.  The 
Roman  tragedy  had  arrived,  we  are  informed  by  some  authors,  at 
a  very  high  pitch  of  excellence,  more  particularly  in  the  works  of 
Attius  and  Pacuvius.  Of  these,  unfortunately,  not  a  vestige  has 
been  preserved,  and  all  of  this  species  of  jioetry  which  have 
reached  our  time,  are  some  very  indifferent  tragedies  published 
under  the  name  of  Seneca. 

We  see  from  this  short  review  of  the  origin  of  literature  amongst 
tiie  Romans,  that  its  earliest  efforts  were  exclusively  confined  to 
dramatic  composition.*  The  Romans,  in  a  word,  borrowed  their 
literature  from  Greece,  and  first  attempted  the  species  of  litera- 
ture then  most  popular  in  Greece  ;  if,  indeed,  their  Plautus  and 
Terence,  and  the  rest,  did  more  than  translate  or  adapt  the  then 
most  popular  pieces  of  the  Greek  stage.  It  was  not  until  tlie  golden 
age  of  Augustus,  that,  by  the  revolutions  which  then  took  place 
in  the  public  taste,  the  other  high  departments  of  literature  were 
introduced  at  Rome.      U  has  been  observed  by  Paterculus,  that 


**  Sonio  of  the  Roman  actors  were  men  of  the  most  rospeclitile  cliara'fer 
JE^opas  was  the  Garrir.k  of  Rome,  and  enjoyed,  like  him,  the  coiinti'nn  \C9 
and  friendship  of  the  most  respecUhle  men  of  liis  country.  lie  e\Cfilrd  in 
tratredv,  arid  was  in  this  d'-partinent  the  m  «sl  cciehraled  artor  that  had  eve 
appeared  on  llie  Roman  slaire.  Cicero  e.vperienced  the  ndyant.Tiji's  of  hia 
f«iend.shi|)  and  talents,  dnrinjr  his  e.xiie  ;  for  /F.sopns  being  enijnijed  in  a  part 
wherein  there  were  several  passijjes  that  niiijht  he  applied  to  Cicero's  misfor- 
tunes, this  exc.i'lient  traijedian  protinunced  tlietn  with  so  pecnhar  and  atr'<-tir.;» 
an  emplnsis  that  the  whole  audience  immediately  took  up  tiie  allusion,  and  it 
had  a  heller  f  ffect,  as  Cicero  himself  acknowle<li;es,  than  any  ihiiii:  Ins  own  elo. 
qnence  could  have  expressed  for  the  same  purpose.  Hut  it  is  not  in  ihis  instance 
nlono  lint  (Viscro  was  ohliircd  to  iB<opus,  as  it  was  hy  the  advaiila;_'e  of  hit 
precepts  and  example  that  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  uratoiical  fame,  iind 
improveil  himself  in  the  art  of  elocution.  The  hii;h  value  whiidi  the  Romani 
set  Ufurn  the  ti'ents  "f  this  pathetic  actor  appears  l)y  the  iinmen.se  estate  which 
he  acquired  in  his  professi(m  :  he  died  wortii  nearly  'J'Kl.OOO/.  He  left  a  »on 
behind  him,  whose  reujarkable  exlravai^auce  is   lecordcd  by  Horace,  ."^at.   3.  Ix 

n.  T.  a:3'J. 


4,^2  UNIVEKSAI.    IIISTOKY  [noOK  IV 

llie  era  of  iln;  pcrffcllon  of  Roiiiiui  litoniliirc  was  the  age  of 
Cicero,  hui  this  lie  extends  to  take  in  all  lliose  authors  of  the  pre- 
ceding age  whom  Cicero  might  have  seen,  and  all  the  succeeding 
jieriod  who  niighl  have  seen  him.  But  the  era  of  the  hi-hesl 
literary  s[)leiulor  amongst  the  Romans  was,  in  truth,  not  of  such 
long  duration.  It  continued  above  a  century.  We  shall  take  a 
brief  review  of  the  most  celebrated  both  of  the  prose  and  poetic 
writers,  beginning  with  the  former. 

Pliny,  Cicero,  and  Quintilian  have  all  spoken  in  very  high  terms 
of  the  writings  of  the  elder  Cato.  His  principal  works  were  his- 
torical, but  of  these  nothing  remains.  Many  of  his  fragments, 
However,  have  come  down  to  us,  and  of  these  the  most  entire  are 
some  parts  of  his  treatise  T)e  Re  Rusticd,  m  which  he  was  imi- 
tated l)y  Varro,  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  good  writers  amongst 
the  Romans. 

The  works  of  Varro  were  extremely  voluminous.  They  con- 
sisted of  many  treatises  on  subjects  of  morals,  politics,  and  natural 
history  ;  of  these,  only  his  books  De  Re  Rustica  have  reached 
the  present  lime,  and  these  are  chiefly  valuable,  not  for  any  par- 
ticular merit  atiaching  either  to  the  style  or  to  the  composition, 
but  for  their  curious  and  accurate  details  on  the  subject  of  Roman 
agriculture.* 

Amongst  the  most  eminent  prose  writers,  Sallust,  in  point  of 
time,  comes  next  to  Varro.  As  to  the  matter  of  his  writings, 
they  have  been,  both  by  his  own  age  and  by  the  judgment  of  the 
present  day,  declared  excellent.  There  is  to  be  discerned  in 
them  a  depth  of  judgment,  a  shrewdness  of  remark  resulting  from 
his  accurate  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  an  admirable  talent 
for  the  delineation  of  character,  which  are  all  qualifications  en)i- 
nendy  requisite  in  a  good  historian.  But  in  regard  to  the  manner 
adopted  in  his  works,  it  is  impossible  to  speak  favorably.  In 
his  anxiety  to  imitate  the  energetic  brevity  of  Thucydides,  he 
has  fallen  into  an  overstrained  conciseness  of  expression,  an  affec- 
tation of  uncommon  idioms,  and  a  studied  adoption  of  antiquated 
phraseology,  which  render  his  style  frequently  obscure,  and  always 
unnatural.  This  is  the  more  unpardonable,  as  he  lived  in  those 
times  in  which  the  Roman  language  was  in  its  highest  purity. 
All  imitations  in  style  are  objectionable,  and  indicate  a  servility 
and  littleness  of  mind  rarely  found  united  to  real  talent.  But  to 
imitate  in  one  language  the  peculiar  idiom  or  particular  style  of 
any  favorite  author  who  writes  in  another,  is  of  all  imitations  the 
most  unnatural,  and  the  least  likely  to  be  attended  with  success. 

Infinitely  superior  to  the  manner  of  writing  which  we  find  in 


*  Cicero,  however,  speai<s  highly  of  the  other  works  of  Varro.  "  Tu  tEtatem 
patria?,  ilu  descriptionos  temporum,  tu  sacrorum  jura,  tu  sacerdotam,  tu  domes- 
licam,  tu  bellicain  disciplinain,  lu  sedein  regionum,  locorum,  tu  omnium  diyia 
arum  liumnnarumquo  reruin,  nomina,  genera,  oiricia,  causas  aperuisti." 


CH.    III. J  nOMAX    LITERATURE.  433 

Sallust,  is  that  of  Cicsar.  Eiulowed  by  nature  with  what  we  mav 
Iruly  term  genius,  this  extraordinary  man  was  destined  to  excel  in 
every  thing  to  which  he  turned  the  powers  of  his  mind.  Unri- 
valled in  military  enterprise,  of  first  rate  talents  as  a  public 
speaker,  engrossed  incessantly  in  those  various  and  agitating  occu- 
pations which  attend  the  life  of  an  active  general  ami  intriguing 
politician,  he  still  found  time  to  compose  those  celebrated  Com- 
mentaries, which,  in  their  own  style  as  military  annals,  have  never 
been  excelled.  To  require  in  the  writings  ofCsEsar  those  qualifi- 
cations which  we  look  for  in  the  graver  productions  of  a  prcfessen 
historian,  would  be  to  mistake  entirely  the  character  of  the  work. 
Composed  in  the  midst  of  the  bustle  of  a  cainj),  and  written  prob- 
ably in  those  few  hurried  hours  which  fill  u|)  the  intervals  occur- 
ring in  military  operations,  they  aim  at  no  higher  merit  than  that 
of  being  a  faithful  delineation  of  his  campaigns  in  Gaul.  As 
such,  in  that  interest  which  is  created  by  the  talents  and  success 
of  their  author,  as  well  as  in  perspicuity  of  narration  and  elegance 
and  purity  of  style,  they  have  ever  remained  unrivalled. 

Different  from  any  of  the  prose  writers  above  spoken  of,  but 
combining  more  excellent  virtues  than  are  to  be  found  in  them  all. 
was  Titus  Livius,  the  father,  as  he  has  been  called,  of  Roman  histo- 
ry. Of  one  hundred  and  forty  books  which  he  had  completed,  only 
hirty-five  have  reached  our  time.  There  is  certainly  to  be  found 
n  this  writer  a  gravity,  it  might  almost  be  called  a  majesty, 
throughout  his  narration — -a  sagacity  in  his  remarks,  although  not 
frequently  intruded — and  a  finished  eloquence  in  the  speec^hes  not 
unsparingly  scattered  through  his  history,  which  countenance,  in 
a  great  degree,  those  high  culogiums  which  Quinlilian,  and  in  a 
later  age  Casaubon,  have  pronounced  on  him.  There  is  not,  in- 
deed, to  be  found  amongst  the  Greeks  any  historian,  who,  with 
equal  political  judgment,  perspicuity  of  arrangement,  and  a  happy 
selection  of  the  most  important  facts,  possesses  so  wonderfiil  an 
eloquence  of  expression.* 

In  the  decline  of  Roman  literature,  we  find  many  historians — 
but  amongst  these,  few  of  great  character:  yet  Tacitus  alone 
would  suflice  to  make  the  age  he  belonged  to,  illustrious  in  litera- 
ture. This  great  writer,  however,  (although  his  merits  as  an  histo- 
rian   have  been   universally    acknowleilged,)   has    some  promineni 


*  .Villi,  om-  old  F.nrrlisli  pool,  in  liis  tragedy  of  .\grippina,  has  the  following 
bpautifiil  ciiloiritiin  of  liistorical  composilioii,  wJicU  cannot  be  a])jiliL-d  to  ant 
author  with  nmre  propriety  IIkim  to  I, ivy. 

"  His  stylf  is  full  .inil  princi'ly, 

Statch'  and  iibsolulo  bi-ycjiid  whatc'cr 

Tnesc  evrs  havn  seen  ;  and  Ilomn,  wlin.^e  niajosty 

Is  there  dcscribefl,  in  nflor  tiuii's)  shall  owe 

For  her  nipniorial  to  tint  lonrnod  p«>n 

More  than  to  all  those  fadinij  moniiincntg 

lluilt  with  the  riches  of  the  Hpoiled  world." 

VOL.   I.  55 


434  UMVKUSAI.    HISTORY.  [nOOK    IV 

faults.  Ill  ilif?  iiarniLivc  of  tlio.se  great  events  with  uhicli  his  his- 
lory  i-i  occiipiL'tl,  he  ascribes  too  much  to  the  operation  of  deej) 
and  artful  schenies  of  policy.  His  ingenious  and  intriguing  inind 
is  ev(;r  restlessly  searching  in  the  regions  of  conjecture  for  some 
dark  or  mysterious  motive  of  conduct,  ascribing  too  little  to  the 
indnence  of  more  simple  and  apparent  causes,  and  eager  to  grasp 
at  every  shadow  of  a  reason,  provided  it  be  sufTiciently  uncommon 
or  unnatural.  Too  often  mere  probabilities  are  stated  as  demon- 
stratively certain,  and  bare  conjectures  assume  the  tone  of  decided 
truths.  In  addition  to  this  fault,  which  resulted  from  a  desire  of 
being  more  than  commonly  acute,  in  accounting  for  even  the  most 
trilling  events,  there  is  in  Tacitus  an  unnecessary  brevity,  and 
mysteriousness  of  style,  which  reminds  us  sometimes  of  the  same 
affectation  in  Sallust.  It  is  by  no  means  to  be  wondered  at  that 
an  author  whose  train  of  thought  is  so  uncommon,  and  whose  lan- 
guage is  generally  so  concise,  should  not  unfrequently  require  a 
considerable  effort  to  be  understood  at  all.  And  it  would  be  well 
if  all  authors  would  recollect  that  they  are  writing  for  posterity, 
as  well  as  for  their  own  age;  that  their  works,  if  intrinsically  val- 
uable, will  be  read  when  time  shall  have  deprived  future  nations 
of  that  deep  and  critical  knowledge  of  the  language  in  which  they 
were  written  which  belongs  to  their  contemporaries;  and,  there- 
fore, that  the  most  simple  and  unambiguous  style  will  ever  be  the 
most  lasting.  Still,  however,  Tacitus  is,  in  many  respects,  an  un- 
rivalled historian,  and  it  is  the  effect  even  of  that  fault  above 
mentioned,  that  he  has  penetrated  with  more  acuteness  into  the 
secret  springs  of  human  policy,  and  developed  with  more  sagacity 
the  causes  of  great  events  than  most  others. 

Let  us  now  attend  to  the  character  and  merits  of  the  most  cele- 
brated of  the  Roman  poets. 

In  addition  to  the  dramatists  whom  we  have  already  adverted 
to,  the  only  poets  who  wrote  during  the  period  of  the  common- 
wealth were  Lucretius  and  Tibullus.  A  philosophic  poem  is,  of 
all  literary  productions,  the  least  likely  to  be  successful;  and  Lu- 
cretius, so  far  as  philosophy  is  concerned,  is  ponderous  and  verbose 
in  his  expression,  perplexed  in  his  meaning,  rugged  in  his  versifi- 
cation. He  had  in  him,  however,  the  materials  of  a  true  poet; 
and  not  unfrequently,  where  he  has  shaken  himself  loose  of  his 
unlortunate  subject,  he  rises  into  passages  of  uncommon  brilliancy. 
But  the  misfortune  is,  that  that  luxuriance  of  imagination  which 
is  the  very  soul  of  poetry,  appears  folly  and  absurdity  when  appli- 
ed to  philosophy.  The  Cardinal  de  Polignac,  in  his  Jlnti-Lucre- 
tius;  Buchanan  in  his  poem  De  Sphccra;  and  Darwin,  in  his 
various  botanical,  mechanical,  and  philosophic  rhapsodies,  have  all 
strongly  corroborated  the  truth  of  this  observation.  All  of  them— 
and  in  no  common  degree  the  first — have  scattered  throughout  the 
rugged  materials  of  their  works  the  real  gems  of  poetry;  all  of 
them  evince  what  they  could  have  been  by  splendid  passages;  but 


CH.   III.]  nO.MA.V  LITERATURE.  435 

all  of  them  have  been  tied  down,  by  the  nature  of  their  sultject, 
to  a  species  of  dry  ratiocination,  or  of  tedious  particularity,  which 
is  either  too  dull  to  be  convincing,  or  too  detailed  to  be  jjoeiical. 
Lucretius  himself,  perhaps,  owes  his  immortalitv  to  some  two  or 
\hree  hundred  glorious  lines,  altogether  parenthetical  as  regards 
his  main  design. 

Catullus  was  the  contemporary  of  Lucretius.  The  characier- 
istics  of  his  poetry,  which  consisted  of  odes,  epigrams,  and  idylli- 
iirns,  (and  which  was  entirely  formed  on  the  model  of  the  Greek 
school,)  appear  to  be  a  learned  purity  of  diction,  a  certain  ele- 
gance and  suavity  in  his  sentences,  a  virulent  and  biting  strain 
of  satire,  and,  in  his  amatory  pieces,  a  voluptuous  and  highly 
colored  imagery,  which  too  often  degenerates  into  broad  licentious- 
ness. 

In  the  succeeding  age  of  Augustus,  the  poetic  genius  of  the 
Romans  attained  to  the  pitch  of  its  highest  elevation.  Virgil, 
Horace,  Ovid,  and  Tibullus,  were  all  conteinporaries  ;  and  it  may 
be  safely  asserted  that  these  poets,  in  their  several  departments, 
were  never  equalled  in  any  one  of  die  succeeding  ages  of  the 
empire. 

To  offer  here  a  minute  criticism  upon  the  poetry  of  Virgil  would 
be  both  unnecessary  and  impertinent.  Every  one,  on  this  head, 
has  read,  thought,  and  felt  for  himself.  Rising  into  the  sublime  in 
many  places  where  his  subject  naturally  demands  it;  tender  and 
pathetic  in  others,  where  the  situation  of  his  characters  calls  ne- 
cessarily for  these  touches  ;  luxuriant  yet  terse  in  his  descriptions 
of  scenery;  grave,  moral,  and  eloquent  in  his  sentiments,  and  at 
the  same  time  combining  and  regulating  all  these  uncommon  ex- 
cellences by  the  utmost  purity  and  correctness  of  taste,  it  was 
impossible  but  that  the  poet,  who  united  in  himself  sucli  various 
and  uncommon  powers,  should  have  been  the  admiration  of  his 
own,  and  the  model  to  succeeding,  ages. 

Horace,  the  friend  and  contemporary  of  Virgil,  is  to  ne  consid- 
ered in  three  difterent  lights, — as  a  lyric  poet,  a  satirist,  and  a 
critic.  In  all  he  is  excellent.  In  his  odes,  he  has  greater  rariettj 
than  any  of  his  Greek  predecessors  appear  to  have  attained  ;  and 
he  has  probably  equalled  the  most  of  them  in  their  several  depart- 
ments. The  great  ciiarin,  however,  is  in  the  varied  turn  of  his 
expressions,  that  curiosa  fclicitas  (to  use  a  term  of  Petrnnius) 
which  no  other  lyric  poet  has  ever  reached.  His  satires,  on  the 
other  band,  possess  a  gentlemanlike  slyness  and  obliquity  of  cen- 
sure which  distinguish  them  toto  ccclo  from  the  keen  and  cutting 
sarcasm  of  Juvenal.* 

*  To  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  comparative  merits  of  Juvenal  ami  Horace 
as  satirists,  we  nave  only  to  compare  liiose  iiatireH  wlit-re  the  two  purls  profewi 
to  treat  the  same  topics,  as  tlie  eiijhlh  of  Jiivrnal  with  the  sixth  ot"  the  1st  Itivik 
of  Horace,  where  the  subject  is  a  disnisttion  on  true  nubility,  or  iJii-  iiiiih  of 
Juvenal  witli  the  first  of  the  Ist  Book  of  Horace. 


Xir,  iiMVF.n^Ai.  iiisTonT.  [book  iv 

As  a  rrltic,  ilii-  nilos  whicli  Horace  lias  pivcn  are  almost  ontirely 
Dormwcd  from  AristoiU.'  ;  Ijiil  he  has  arrarij!;r'(l  tlicrii  with  iliat 
acute  and  admirable  judgment,  and  illustrated  tlicrn  with  that  ap- 
titude of  imnj;('iy  which  are  consj)icuous  in  the  rest  of  his  poetical 
compositions. 

Ovid  is  the  next  and  last  of  th;it  constellation  of  poets  which 
fornted  the  honor  of  the  Augustan  age.  In  what  we  term  geniim^ 
he  is  defidcdly  inferior  hoth  to  Virgil  and  Horare.  lie  is  defifient 
in  grandeur  of  concej)tion,  in  sim|)licily  of  expression,  anrl  in  tjint 
high-wrought  and  ardent  imagination  which  is  the  accompaniment 
of  the  more  lofty  kinds  of  genius.  But  if  he  wants  all  this,  he 
possesses  still  many  excellences.  His  invention  is  astonishing  : 
in  variety  of  story,  in  ingenuity  of  connection,  in  the  profusion  and 
ficiiity  of  his  versification,  he  cannot  be  surpassed.  He  is,  in  these 
rcs])ects,  a  kind  of  Ariosto  amongst  the  ancients.  But  even  these 
irreat  qualities  have  led  him  into  errors.  He  is  generally  too  diffuse 
to  be  grand  or  forcible — too  jiarlicular,  too  much  a  lover  of  the  de- 
tail of  description,  ever  to  reach  the  sublime.  He  is,  in  the  words 
vf  Quintiliaii,  nimium  amator  sui  ingenii — too  fond  of  his  own 
ngenuity.  His  learning  becomes  too  often  tedious,  his  narration 
prolix,  his  invention  puerile.  He  possesses,  in  short,  more  of 
those  minor  qualifications  which  are  necessary  to  constitute  a  true 
poet  than  any  of  his  contemporaries: — he  can  be  tender,  harmoni- 
ous, pathetic,  and  sometimes  eloquent; — but  if  he  is  ever  great,  it 
is  only  in  a  few  insulated  passages,  which  are  scattered  through 
his  works.  It  is  more,  perhaps,  the  effect  of  chance  or  of  imita- 
tion, than  of  that  steady  ray  of  genius  which  illuminates  the  nobler 
work  of  his  friend  and  contcmj)orary  Virgil. 

The  elegies  of  Tibnllus  are  elegant,  but  generally  insipid.  They 
never  offend,  but  they  seldom  move  ;  he  is  a  pleasing,  but  not  an 
original  poet,  and,  owing  to  an  extreme  poverty  of  fancy,  he  is 
constantly  pacing  the  same  beaten  track,  eodem  pane  gyro  con- 
chidilur. 

The  last  of  the  Roman  poets  whom  we  may  call  truly  excellent 
in  his  own  department  is  Martial .  The  sense  which  the  ancients 
appear  to  have  afUxed  to  the  term  "  epigram,"  appears  to  have  been 
very  different  from  its  common  acceptation  in  the  present  day.  By 
epigram  we  generally  understand  some  happy  or  amusing  conceit, 
some  sudden  ebullition  of  wit,  or  humor,  expressed  in  a  short  and 
sententious  distich.  According  to  the  meaning  of  the  ancients, 
however,  there  was  no  limitation  as  to  these  qualities.  Any  happy 
turn  of  thought,  whether  playful  or  serious,  expressed  in  poetical 
language,  was  denominated  an  epigram.  It  is  for  this  reason  that, 
amongst  the  Anthologies  of  the  Greeks,  we  meet  with  epigrams 
which  are  alternately  written  in  a  jocose  or  serious  strain,  and 
which,  if  they  are  often  smart  and  humorous,  are  as  frequently 
tender  and  pathetic.  Such  is  in  truth  the  real  character  of  the 
Ej)igrams    of  Martial  ;    and  the    execution  of  these,  to  whatever 


OH.    iV.  ,  ROMAN    LlTEnATURE.  437 

class  they  belong,  is  for  the  most  part  peculiarly  hap|)y.  Yet  be 
has  many  faults.  His  ingenuity  and  quickness  have  often  betray- 
ed him  mlo  overstrained  and  artificial  conceits.  Conscious  of  a 
peculiar  talent  in  discerning  remote,  though  often  ludicrous  anal- 
ogies, he  is  ever  too  anxious  to  display  this.  He  j)lays  too  much 
upon  the  sense,  and  puns  too  frequently  on  the  sound  and  mean- 
ing of  his  words;  and  he  has  that  unpardonable  fault,  so  conunon 
to  the  age  in  which  he  wrote,  of  introducing  an  obscenity  and 
licentiousness  into  his  verses,  which,  aUhough  it  recommend>:Q 
them  to  that  degraded  people  for  whom  he  wrote,  is  fortunately 
too  gross  to  produce  any  serious  mischief,  or  to  create  any  other 
feeling  than  that  of  disgust. 

The  first  symptom  of  the  corruption  of  writing  is  a  •species  of 
false  and  inflated  style,  a  luxuriance  of  ornament,  and  a  fondness 
for  quaint  and  pointed  terms  of  expression.  This  was  discernible 
even  in  Martial.  When  these  succeed  to,  or  rather  usurp,  the 
place  of  the  chaste,  manly,  and  simple  mode  of  expression — of 
that  style  which  attends  more  to  the  sense  which  it  conveys,  than 
to  the  terms  or  manner  in  which  it  is  constructed,  it  is  a  certain 
indication  of  the  decay  of  a  just  and  genuine  taste.  Even  in  the 
end  of  the  reign  of  Augustus,  poetry  seems  to  have  been  rather 
on  the  decline;  and  in  the  succeeding  age,  if  we  except  the  com- 
positions of  Martial  and  Juvenal,  nature  and  simplicity  had  almost 
entirely  given  place  to  bombast  and  aftectation.  Although  in 
Lucan  we  find  some  scattered  examples  of  genuine  poetic  imagery, 
and  in  Persius  several  happy  strokes  of  keen  and  animated  satire, 
yet  they  hardly  repay  the  trouble  of  wading  through  the  unnatura' 
fustian  of  the  one,  or  the  affected  obscurity  of  the  other — who, 
however,  we  should  remember,  wrote  the  pieces  which  remain  to 
u?  in  early  youth. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Roman  Philosophy — Public  and  Private  Manners. 

In  the  present  chapter,  I  shall  consider,  in  the  first  j)lace,  the 
state  of  philosophy,  amongst  the  Romans,  and  afterwards  proceed 
to  the  subject  of  their  public  and  private  manners.  In  the  early 
ages  of  the  republic,  the  Romans,  occupied  in  continual  wars  with 
the  states  of  Italy,  or,  in  the  short  intervals  of  respite  from  these, 


438  UiNIVEIlSAI,    IIISTOUV.  L''^^'^  i^ 

engrossed  in  llieir  domeslic  dissensions,  liad  lilile  leisure  lo  bestow 
on  the  cultivation  of  the  sciences,  and  had  no  idea  of  philosopliical 
speculation.  It  was  not  till  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  after  the 
huildinj;  of  the  city,  and  in  the  interval  between  the  war  with  Per- 
seus of  Maccdon  and  the  third  Punic  war,  that  j)hilosophy  n)ade  its 
first  appearance  at  Rome.  A  namber  of  Achaians,  banished  from 
their  native  country,  had  settled  in  Italy.  Part  of  these,  amongst 
whom  were  some  men  of  talents  and  learning,  particularly  Poly- 
bius  the  Megalopolitan,  took  up  their  abode  at  Rome,  and  ajtplying 
themselves  there  to  the  pursuit  of  letters  and  the  education  of  the 
Roman  youth,  soon  diffused  a  relish  for  these  studids,  hitherto 
unknown  to  the  rising  republic.  This  new  taste  was,  as  I  have 
hinted  at  in'lhe  former  chapter,  very  unfavorably  regarded  by  the 
older  citizens.  The  senators,  who  lived  in  a  perpetual  struggle 
with  a  people  jealous  of  their  civil  rights,  were  in  no  measure 
disposed  to  encourage  philosophical  disquisitions  on  the  origin  of 
government,  on  the  foundation  of  liberty,  and  the  natural  rights 
of  mankind.  To  repress,  therefore,  such  dangerous  studies,  this 
body  ))assed  a  decree,  banishing  those  foreign  philosophers  from 
their  city.  This,  however,  was  an  ineffectual  remedy.  The  pas- 
sion for  literature  may  perhaps  be  cherished  by  political  encour- 
agements, but  once  roused  it  is  not  easily  extinguished  by  political 
restraints.  A  few  years  after  this,  Carneades  and  Critolaus,  ar- 
rived in  an  Athenian  embassy  at  Rome;  the  discourses  of  these 
philosophers  added  new  strength  and  vigor  to  that  taste  whose 
first  efforts  the  Roman  senate  had  in  vain  attempted  to  extinguish, 
and  the  Greek  philosophy  soon  became  as  generally  relished  in 
this  era  of  the  republic,  as  during  its  earliest  ages  it  had  been 
either  unknown  or  despised. 

It  was  natural  that,  in  the  choice  among  the  different  systems 
which  the  several  sects  or  schools  of  Greek  philosophy  presented, 
those  tenets  should  be  most  favorably  received  and  most  generally 
adopted,  which  accorded  most  with  the  national  character  and 
genius  of  the  people.  The  Romans  had  not  yet  shaken  off  the 
severity  of  ancient  manners,  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Stoical  phi- 
losophy were,  therefore,  most  nearly  allied  to  their  own  previous 
conceptions  of  morality.  The  philosophy  of  Aristotle  was  in 
truth  little  known  in  Rome  till  the  age  of  Cicero.  Cratij)pus  then 
taught  his  system  with  great  reputation,  though  that  unnecessarily 
tedious  and  complicated  mode  of  reasoning  adopted  by  this  |)hi- 
losoj)her  does  not  appear  ever  to  have  had  a  numerous  party  to 
support  it.  Lucullus,  whose  stay  in  Greece  afforded  him  an 
opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  doctrines  of  all  the 
different  schools,  at  his  return  to  Rome  disseminated  a  very  gen- 
eral taste  for  philosophising.  He  does  not,  indeed,  appear  to  have 
attacn«=:d  himself  exclusively  to  the  tenets  of  any  particular  sect. 
If  he  inad  a  preference  for  any,  it  was  for  that  of  Plato.  The 
philosophy  of  the  New  Academy,  which  professed  to  teach  the  art 


CH.   IV. 1  ROMAN    rilll.OSOPllT.  439 

of  defending  all  opinions,  would  necessarily  find  its  partisans  among 
the  lawyers  and  orators.  Cicero,  if  he  professed  any  settled  sys- 
tem at  all,  (a  point  which  his  philosophical  writings  leave  very 
enigmatical,)  seems  most  attaclieil  to  this. 

The  truth  probably  is,  that,  in  his  philosophical  works,  his  g?n- 
eral  jjuipose  was  to  give  rather  a  history  of  the  ancient  philosophy, 
than  any  defence  or  exposition  of  his  own  j)eculiar  opinions  ;  to 
explain  to  his  countrymen  in  their  own  language  whatever  the 
philosophers  of  all  sects  and  all  ages  had  taught,  with  a  view  to- 
wards the  enlargement  of  their  understanding,  and  the  improving 
of  their  morals.  This  he  declares  to  be  his  purpose  in  his  ''  Trea- 
tise de  Finibus,"  in  that,  De  Natura  Deoruin,  in  his  "  Ttisculan 
Disputations,"  and  in  his  book  on  the  Academic  Philosophy.  As 
to  pliysics,  or  natural  |)liilosoi)hy,  Cicero  seems  to  have  entertain- 
ed the  same  opinion  with  Socrates — that  a  minute  and  particular 
attention  to  these  inquiries  was  a  study  rather  curious  than  useful, 
and  contributing  but  little  to  the  real  benefit  of  mankind — a  very 
extraordinary  idea,  but  which  seems  to  have  been  prevalent  with 
most  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  if  we  except  Aristotle  and  the 
elder  Pliny.  It  was  reserved  for  our  own  country,  in  a  future  and 
more  enlightened  age  of  the  world,  to  lay,  in  this  severe  and  criti- 
cal examination  of  Nature,  which  was  tlien  so  much  despised,  the 
solid  basis  of  all  true  and  genuine  |)hilosophy.  Of  the  writings 
and  principles  of  Aristotle  a  particular  account  has  been  given  in 
treating  of  the  progress  of  philosophy  amongst  the  Greeks.  No- 
thing need  here  be  added  upon  this  subject.  The  elder  Pliny, 
whose  books  on  natural  history  still  remain  entire,  was  perhaps 
one  of  the  most  extraordinary  literary  phenomena  that  ever  exist- 
ed in  the  world.  In  one  of  the  letters  of  his  nephew,  Pliny  the 
younger,  there  is  an  account  given  of  the  studies,  and  a  description 
of  the  manner  of  life  of  this  singular  man,  which,  as  it  is  extrcmelj 
curious,  I  shall  be  easily  excused  for  inserting. 

"  You  adn)ire,"  says  Pliny  to  Macer,  "  the  works  of  my  uncle, 
and  wish  to  have  a  complete  collection  of  them;  I  will  jjoint  out 
to  you  the  order  in  which  they  were  composed  :  for,  however 
immaterial  that  may  seem,  it  is  a  sort  of  information  not  at  all  un- 
acceptable to  men  of  letters.  The  first  book  ho  published  was  a 
treatise  concerning  the  Art  of  throwing  the  Javelin  on  Horscl)ack. 
This  he  wrote  when  he  commanded  a  troop  of  horse,  and  it  is 
drawn  up  with  great  accuracy  and  judgment.  lie  next  pul)lishe(| 
the  Life  of  Pompouius  Secundus,  in  two  books,  and  after  that,  the 
History  of  the  Wars  in  Germany,  in  twenty  books,  in  which  he 
gave  an  account  of  all  the  battles  wo  had  been  engaged  in  against 
that  nation;  and  a  Treatise  upon  Eloquence,  divided  into  six 
books.  In  this  work  he  takes  the  orator  from  his  cradle,  and 
leads  him  up  till  he  has  carried  him  to  the  highest  point  of  pcr- 
ection  in  his  art.  In  the  latter  part  of  Nero's  reign,  when  the 
tyranny  of  the  times  made  it  dangerous  to  engage  in  any  studie? 


440  INIVF.KSAL  HISTORY.  [bOOK   IV 

of  a  more  free  and  elevated  nature,  lie  published  a  jiieee  of  criti« 
cism  in  eight  hooks,  concernin;^  Ainbi^iiily  in  Expression.  Ho 
completed  the  iiistory  which  Anhdius  Bassns  left  unfinished,  and 
added  to  it  thirty  books;  and  lastly,  he  lias  left  thirty-seven  books 
of  natural  history,  a  work  of  great  compass  and  learning,  and  al- 
most as  various  as  Nature  herself.  You  will  wonder  how  a  man 
so  engaged  as  he  was  CDuld  find  time  to  compose  so  many  books; 
but  your  surprise  will  rise  still  higher,  when  you  hear,  that  lor 
some  time  he  engaged  in  the  profession  of  an  advocate;  that  he 
died  in  his  fifiy-sixth  year;  and  that  from  the  time  of  his  quitting 
the  bar  till  his  death,  he  was  employed  in  the  execution  of  the 
highest  employments,  and  in  the  service  of  his  prince.  But  he 
had  a  quick  a^iprehension,  joined  to  unwearied  application.  Be- 
fore day-break  he  used  to  wait  upon  Vespasian,  who  like  him 
chose  that  time  to  transact  his  business.  When  he  had  finished 
the  affairs  which  the  emperor  committed  to  his  charge,  he  return- 
ed home  to  his  studies.  After  a  short  repast  at  noon,  he  would 
repose  himself  in  the  sun,  during  which  time,  some  author  was 
read  to  him,  from  which,  according  to  his  constant  custom,  he 
made  extracts  and  observations.  When  this  was  over,  he  gener- 
ally took  the  cold  bath,  after  that,  a  slight  refreshment,  and  then 
reposed  himself  a  little.  Then,  as  if  beginning  a  new  day,  he 
immediately  resumed  his  studies  till  supper  time,  during  which,  a 
book  was  commonly  read  to  him,  upon  which  lie  would  make 
occasional  remarks.  In  sunmier,  he  rose  from  supper  by  day-light 
and  in  winter  as  soon  as  it  was  dark.  Such  was  his  manner  of 
life,  amidst  the  hurry  and  noise  of  the  town;  but  in  the  country, 
his  whole  time  was  devoted  to  study  without  intermission,  except- 
ing when  in  the  bath,  for  even  when  undressing,  and  when  he  was 
rubbed  by  his  servants,  he  was  either  listening  to  a  reader,  or  dic- 
tating himself.  A  secretary  constantly  attended  him  in  his  chariot. 
I  remember  he  once  reproved  me  for  walking.  '  You  might,' 
says  he,  '  employ  those  hours  to  more  advantage,'  for  he  thought 
all  time  was  lost  which  was  not  given  to  study.  By  this  extraor- 
dinary a|)plication  he  found  time  to  write  so  many  volumes.  I 
cannot  but  smile,  (continues  the  younger  Pliny,)  when  I  hear 
myself  called  a  studious  man,  who,  in  comparison  to  him,  am  a 
mere  loiterer.  But  why  do  I  mention  myself,  who  am  diverted 
from  these  pursuits  by  numberless  affairs  both  public  and  private.* 
Even  they  whose  whole  lives  are  engaged  in  study  must  blush  when 
placed  in  the  same  view  with  him." 

This  picture  of  the  manner  of  life  pursued  by  the  elder  Pliny 
will  be  allowed  by  all  to  be  a  very  singular  one,  but  it  is  too  in- 
consistent with  the  ordinary  powers  of  man  to  serve  as  a  model  of 
imitation.  It  will  appear  also  from  this,  that  Pliny  was  infinitely 
more  studious  of  storing  his  mind  with  the  opinions  of  others  than 
to  form  opinions  of  his  own  ;  for  one  who  is  constantly  employed, 
either  in  listening  to  a  reader,  or  in  dictating  to  an  amanuensis,  can- 


CH.   IV.]  ROMAJJ    nilLOSOPHV.  441 

not  possibly  give  suflicieiit  exercise  eiilier  to  liis  jud;;incnt  or  hh 
invention.  And  this,  indeed,  appears  to  have  been  tlie  case  with 
Pliny,  if  we  may  jud^e  from  the  only  work  of  his  remaining;,  Tke 
Boots  of  jyatural  History^  which  is,  indeed,  little  else  than  a 
most  vokiminons  conipilaiion  from  the  works  of  Varro,  the  elder 
Cato,  Hyginiis,  Pomponius  xMela,  Aristotle,  Theophrastus,  Hero- 
dotus, and  other  writers — a  work  valuable,  no  doubt,  as  containing 
an  immense  treasury  of  the  knowledge  of  the  ancients,  but  filled 
with  discordant  and  contradictory  opinions,  and  indicating,  on  the 
whole,  no  original  genius  in  the  compiler. 

It  was  above  remarked  that,  when  philosophy  first  made  its  way 
from  Greece  to  Rome,  the  doctrines  of  the  Stoical  school  were 
then  chiefly  prevalent  in  the  republic.  With  a  people  who  were 
only  emerging  from  a  simplicity,  or  rather  a  severity  of  manners, 
it  is  not  probable  that  the  system  of  E|)icuru3  would  find  a  very 
favorable  reception.  As  luxury,  however,  advanced,  and  corrup- 
tion of  manners  began  to  undermine  the  strictness  of  the  ancient 
morality,  it  also  found  its  votaries.  This  change  in  the  Roman 
manners,  it  may  not  be  uninstructive  to  consider  somewhat  mi 
nutely. 

Tlie  picture  of  the  Roman  people  during  the  first  five  centuries 
is  so  perfectly  distinct,  so  widely  different  from  what  we  find  it  in 
the  latter  ages  of  the  republic,  that  we  might  at  first  be  induced 
to  think  that  some  very  extraordinary  causes  must  have  coilperaied 
to  produce  so  total  an  alteration.  Yet  the  transition  was  easy  and 
natural,  and  was  in  the  Roman  people  the  necessary  and  inevit- 
able consequence  of  that  rich  and  luxurious  situation  in  which  the 
virtuous  and  heroic  temper  of  the  earlier  times  had  conduced  to 
place  the  republic.  A  spirit  of  temperance,  of  frugality,  and 
of  industry  must  be  the  characteristics  of  every  infant  colony. 
The  poverty  of  the  first  Ronians,  the  narrow  territory  to  which 
they  were  limited,  made  it  necessary  for  every  citizen  lo  labor  for 
his  subsistence.  In  the  first  ages,  the  patricians,  when  in  the  coun- 
try, forgot  all  the  distinctions  of  rank,  and  toiled  daily  in  the  fields 
like  the  lowest  plebeian.  Examples  of  this  are  familiar  to  every 
reader.  Cincinnaiiis  we  have  seen  named  dictator  by  the  voice 
of  his  country,  while  at  the  plough.  M.  Cm-ins,  after  expelling 
Pvrrhus  from  Italy,  retired  to  the  possession  of  a  small  farm, 
which  he  assiduously  cultivated.  The  elder  Cato  was  fond  of  . 
diis  spot,  and  revered  it  on  account  of  its  former  master.  It  was 
in  emulation  of  the  example  of  this  ancient  Roman  that  Cato  bo- 
took  himself  to  agriculture.  Scipio  Africanus  also,  after  the  con- 
quest of  Hannibal  and  the  reduction  of  Carthage,  retired  to  his 
paternal  fields,  and  with  his  own  hand  reared  and  grafted  his  fruit- 
trees.  If  such  was  the  conduct  and  example  of  the  highest  mag- 
istrates and  most  eminent  men  in  the  state,  what  idea  must  we 
form  of  tlie  manners  and  customs  of  the  inferior  ranks.' 
VOL.   I.  56 


4-42  LNIVKUSAI.    HISTOUY.  [bOOK   IV 

III  times  of  peace  and  tranquillity,  r7)o.st  of  the  citizens,  cinj)loyed 
at  their  small  farms,  visited  the  town  only  every  ninth  or  mnrkct 
day.  There  they  j)rovided  themselves  with  necessaries  for  the 
week,  and  took  their  share  in  the  puhlic  business  of  the  common- 
wealth at  the  comitia.  It  was  on  these  market-days  that  the 
tribunes  harangued  the  people,  and  it  was  then  that  those  men — 
emplo)ed  for  their  daily  occupation  in  laboring  and  husbandry — 
feeling  their  weight  in  the  public  deliberations,  learned  to  know 
their  own  importance  in  the  state,  which  was  in  no  respect  dimin- 
ished by  the  necessary  cares  and  duties  to  which,  in  those  happy 
and  primitive  ages,  custom  had  annexed  respect  and  honor  instead 
of  meanness  or  reproach. 

Thus  simple  were  the  occupations,  and,  of  consequence,  the 
manners  o?  the  ancient  Romans.     Employed  either  in  their  war- 
like expeditions,  or,  when  at  peace,  in  the  frugal,  laborious,  and 
innocent  avocations  of  a  country  life,  it  was  to  be  expected,  as  a 
necessary  result,  that  industry  and  a  virtuous  sin:ip!icity  of  manners 
should  be  the  principal    features  in  the  character  of  a  people  so 
situated.     "  Domi  militiaRque   (says  Sallust)   boni  mores  coleban- 
tur — jus  bonumque  apud  eos  non  legibus  magis  quani  natura  vale- 
bat  :  duabus  artibus,  audacia  in  hello,  ubi  pax  evenerat  a;quitate, 
seque  rempublicam  curabant."     But  this  very  discipline,  and  those 
manners    which  paved  the  way  for  the  extension   of  the  Roman 
arms,  and  for  the  conquest  of  the  surrounding  empires,  became, 
of  consequence,  the  remote  cause  of  the  corruption  of  the  man- 
ners of  the  people  in  the  later  ages  of  the   republic,  and  the  intro- 
duction of  that  luxurious  and  efibminate  spirit  from  which  it  is  not 
difficult    to  deduce  the  ruin  and  downfall  of  the  commonwealth. 
When,  after  the  second  Punic  war,  they  had  pushed  their  con- 
quests into  Asia,  and  in  the  third  Punic  war  accomplished   the  sub- 
version of   Carthage,  and  acquired    the  unlimited   sovereignty  of 
Greece,  then    it    necessarily  happened    that,  losing    their    ancient 
manners    with    their   ancient    poverty,    possessed    of  wealth,  and 
adopting  with  a  willing  servility  the  customs  of  the  nations  they 
subdued,  the    Romans    became    as    vicious,  as  luxurious,  and  as 
effeminate  as  they  had  before  been   remarkable    for  their  virtue, 
their  industry,  and  their  rigid  simplicity  of  manners.     They  ap- 
peared now  to  be  actuated  by  a  new  spirit,  but  chiefly  by  an  affec- 
tation of  taste  in  the  fine  arts,  in  which  nature  certainly  had  never 
qualified  them  to  make  any  decided  or  eminent    progress.     The 
faculty  to  excel  in  these  requires  not  only  a  predisposition  of  nature, 
an  inherent  acutencss  of  perception  of  what  is  beautiful,  but  also 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  objects  of  taste,  and  a  long  habit 
of  exercising  the  judgment  exclusively  upon  them.      Of  this  natural 
predisposition  to  the  fine  arts  the  Romans  never  evinced  any  traces. 
On  the  contrary,  even  in  the  periods  of  their  greatest  refinement, 
we  hear  not  of  the  excellence  of  a  single  painter,  sculptor,  or  ar- 
chitect ;  not  did  they  indeed  possess,  until  their  conquest  of  Greece, 


en.   IV.]  ROMAN    iMAN.NERS.  413 

any  acquaintance  with  those  exalted  specimens  of  art  iij)on  which 
a  corrected  and  chastened  taste  could  •dlone  have  been  formed. 
At  that  period,  indeed,  an  immense  field  was  at  once  opened  to 
their  view.  The  master-pieces  of  art  poured  in  upon  fSem;  but 
these  they  did  not  possess  the  talents  to  appreciate.  The  extrav- 
agances of  glare  and  show  were  more  suited  to  th^ir  judgment, 
and  possessed  more  attractive  beauties  to  their  unpractised  eyes; 
and  it  is  natural,  therefore,  to  conclude  that  the  Roman  luxury,  so 
far  as  the  fine  arts  were  concerned,  could  only  manifest  itself  in  an 
awkwarc^,  heavy,  and  tasteless  magnificence. 

In  order  to  give  some  idea  of  the  manners  of  the  Romans  after 
they  had  undergone  this  remarkable  change,  or  rather  towards  tho 
end  of  the  commonwealth,  at  a  time  when  the  extrava'^^ance  of 
general  luxury  was  felt  throughout  the  whole  body  politic,  and  to 
point  out  also  some  customs  which  were  peculiarly  characteristic 
of  this  people,  it  may  not  be  improper  shortly  to  describe  the 
manner  in  which  the  day  was  spent  at  Rome,  as  well  by  the  lower 
as  by  the  higher  and  more  idle  classes  of  the  citizens.  Extraor- 
dinary as  it  may  appear  to  us,  it  is  certain  that  the  Romans  were, 
for  nearly  five  centuries,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  division  of  the  day 
by  hours,  and  knew  no  other  distinction  hut  that  of  morning,  mid- 
lay,  and  evening.  The  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables  divided  the 
day  into  two  portions  only,  ortus  el  occastts,  nor  was  it  until  a  con- 
siderable time  after,  that  they  added  a  third  division,  mcndies. 
We  are  informed  by  Pliny  the  naturalist,  that  till  the  477ih  year 
of  Rome,  when  Papirius  Cursor  caused  the  first  sun-dial  to  be 
put  upon  the  wall  of  the  temple  of  Quirinus,  they  had  never  used 
any  method  of  measuring  time;  that  Valerius  Messala  brought 
another  from  Catania,  in  Sicily,  and  that  these  two,  although  very 
inaccurate  in  dividing  time,  continued  to  be  the  only  regulators  of 
the  day  at  Rome  for  nearly  a  centiny,  till  Scipio  Nasica  introduced 
the  water-clock,  which  showed  the  hours  both  of  the  day  and 
night. 

The  first,  second,  and  third  hours  were  difTerenlly  employed  at 
Rome  by  the  different  ranks  of  the  people;  and  even  by  these 
differently  according  to  their  separate  in<'linations.  It  was  the 
custom  with  many  to  begin  the  day  by  visiting  the  temples,  where, 
according  as  their  ideas  of  devotion  were  more  or  less  strict,  they 
either  sacrificed,  or  paid  their  adoration  by  simply  kissing  their 
hand,  or  prostrating  themselves  before  their  own  particular  deity. 
Those  who  were  more  rigorously  devout  made  their  conscientious 
circuit  to  most  of  the  temples  in  the  city,  a  business  which  must 
necessarily  have  occupied  many  hours;  but  the  great  bulk  of  the 
citi'/.ens,  attached  to  temporal  concerns,  and  intent  on  more  sub- 
stantial duties,  emploved  the  mornins;  very  difierenlly.  The  Pa- 
troiii  were  attended  i)y  all  their  ('lieiitrs.  The  great  had  their 
levees,  at  which  either  their  inferiors  who  wished  to  reronimcnJ 
themselves  to  their  protection,  or  even  their  equals  who  courte' 


41  t  U.VIVERSAL    mSTOUY.  [uOOK   IV 

llicir  favor  and  friendship,  crowded  in  tlie  morning  to  pay  their 
conipliincnts.  Ponipey  did  not  liiink  it  bencaiii  iiini  to  appear  at 
the  levee  of  Cicero.  The  custom  was  to  wait  in  the  vestibule  or 
unte-chamber,  till  the  great  man  made  his  apj)carance;  to  pay 
him  some  compliment,  couched  either  in  wishes  for  his  health  or 
j)anegyric  on  his  talents,  or  congratulation  on  any  promotion  which 
might  have  occurred,  and  afterwards  to  accompany  him — either 
walking  in  his  train,  or  attending  by  the  side  of  his  litter — to  the 
senate-house,  or  to  the  forum,  and  thence  to  reconduct  him  home. 

The  lower  ranks  and  tlie  more  servile  and  parasitical  courtiers, 
who  had  many  such  visits  to  pay,  must  have  necessarily  begun 
very  early  in  the  morning.  Juvenal  humorously  describes  them 
as  setting  out  by  star-light,  and  does  not  even  give  them  lime  t,(i 
tie  their  garters. 

These  visits  Pliny  calls  ante-lucana  ojjicia.  They  were  some- 
times so  troublesome  to  the  great  man  to  whom  they  were  paid, 
that  it  was  not  unusual  for  him  to  go  out  by  a  back  door,  and  so 
give  his  visiters  the  slip.  Hoiace,  in  his  fifth  epistle,  playfully  ad- 
vises his  friend  Torquaius  to  escape  the  importunities  of  his  clients 
oy  this  sinister  expedient : — 

"  rebus  omissis, 
Atria  servantem  postico  f'alle  clientern  * 

This  liberty,  however,  we  may  rest  assured,  was  not  very  often 
taken;  for  if,  as  we  have  above  seen,  the  expedients  of  those  an- 
cient courtiers,  who  in  these  remote  times  solicited  the  patronage 
of  the  great  in  Rome,  were  in  few  respects  different  from  that 
watchful  and  attentive  assiduity  which  still  distinguishes  the  same 
classes  amongst  ourselves,  we  may  rely  also  that  the  great  in  Rome 
were  no  less  ambitious  of  receiving  these  marks  of  distinction,  than 
the  powerful  in  this  country.  Popularity  was  there,  indeed,  al- 
ways the  first  object  of  ambition;  and  when  the  great  man  Cudde 
the  tour  of  his  circle  at  the  levee,  he  was  not,  we  may  be  asvured, 
tl>'  least  com])laisant  of  his  company.  And,  indeed,  in  the  latter 
<jges  of  the  republic  it  was  not  enough  for  the  great  to  show  their 
ntfability  by  an  empty  salute  or  a  simple  squeeze  of  the  hand;  the 
•courtiers  were  then  accustomed  to  expect  more  substantial  marks 
of  their  favor,  and  thought  themselves  ill  used  if  they  were  not 
regaled  with  a  breakfast  of  the  most  delicate  viands,  or  repaid  for 
their  attendance  by  a  present  or  a  piece  of  money. 

From  the  levee  they  next  proceeded  to  the  tribunal  or  to  :he 
forum — some,  as  concerned  there  either  in  private  or  public  bu- 
siness, others  for  amusement  to  hear  what  was  going  on.  There 
the  time  was  spent  till  noon,  which  among  the  Romans  was  the 
hour  of  dinner,  chiefly  a  very  light  repast,  and  of  which  it  was 
not  customary  to  invite  any  guests  to  partake.  After  dinner  the 
youth  repaired  to  the  Campus  Martins,  and  spent  the  hours  til] 
sunset  in  a  variety  of  sports  and  athletic  exercises.     The  eldej 


CH,     IV. J  ROMAN'     MANNERS.  415 

class  retired  for  an  hour  lo  repose,  and  then  passed  the  afternoon 
in  their  jiorticoes  or  galleries  which,  in  the  house  of  every  man  of 
rank,  formed  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  building.  Many  of  these 
were  opened  to  the  air,  supported  on  pillars  of  stone  or  marble, 
under  which  they  enjoyed  the  exercise  of  walking,  and  sometimes 
of  being  carried  in  their  litters.  Other  galleries  were  sheltered 
from  the  air,  and  lighted  by  windows  of  a  transparent  talc  or  lapis 
specularis  which  suj)plied  the  place  of  glass.*  The-e  covered 
galleries  were  ornamented  in  the  richest  manner,  and  with  the 
most  expensive  decorations — gilded  roofs,  paintings  on  the  walls, 
and  statues  in  the  niches  ; — and  adjoining  to  them  were  their  libra 
ries,  which,  in  the  latter  days  of  the  republic,  became  an  article  of 
great  expense,  and  on  the  furnishing  of  which  the  higher  classes 
used  particularly  to  pique  themselves.  The  sumptuous  Lucidlus 
exceeded  all  his  contemporaries  in  this,  as  indeed  in  every  other 
species  of  luxury.  His  library  was  more  extensive  than  that  of  any 
other  private  citizen,  and  the  use  he  made  of  it  more  noble.  His 
porticoes,  the  halls  where  his  books  were  arranged,  and  his  gar- 
dens with  which  they  communicated,  were  all  open  to  the  public. 
Strangers  were  more  particularly  welcomed,  and  his  house,  Plu- 
tarch informs  us,  became  the  asylum  and  the  prytaneum  of  all  the 
Greeks  at  Rome.  In  these  galleries  the  master  of  the  house 
amused  himself  in  the  evening  in  conversations  with  his  guests,  or 
in  sports  with  his  friends.  There  likewise  the  poets  came  to  re- 
cite their  works,  although  this  practice  was  probably  confined  to 
the  most  ostentatious  or  the  most  needy,  who  in  this  way  attempt- 
ed to  recommend  themselves  to  a  patron.  "Non  recito  cuiquam 
(says  Horace)  nisi  amicis,  idque  coactus." 

The  houses  of  private  citizens,  and  even  of  those  of  the  higher 
classes,  were  of  a  very  moderate  size  during  the  times  of  the  re- 
public. The  Romans  appear  to  have  lived  much  in  the  open  air, 
as  a  great  part  of  their  buildings  consisted  of  vestibuli:'s  and  porti- 
coes. The  houses  were  detached  from  each  other,  and  usually  of 
one  floor.  The  different  apartments  had  each  a  single  door,  en- 
tering from  the  gallery  or  portico.  These  apartments,  except  the 
triclinium  or  hall,  where  they  sat  at  meals,  were  generally  small 
and  lighted  only  by  one  square  window  near  the  ceilings.  The 
furniture  of  the  house  and  its  decorations  were  simple,  the  walls 
ornamented  with  fresco  painting  in  a  light  and  checrlul  style.  The 
larger  houses  had  each  a  garden  behind  for  the  cultivation  of  veg- 
etable?, and  a  few  trees  to  yield  a  refreshing  shade  in  sumnier. 

This  luxury  of  walking  and  amusing  themselves  under  cover 
was  not  long  confined  to  the  rich  and  the  powerfiil.  These,  to 
increase  their  popularity,  built  porticoes  for  the  use  of  the  public, 


"  Hibprnis  ohjcrta  nntis  sppriilnria  piims 

AcliiiiUunt  soles,  cl  sine  Hrcc  dioin." — Martial. 


446  UNIVERSAI,    mSTOIlY.  [book     IV 

and  contrndcd  with  cacli  other  in  bostouini^  on  them  the  most 
expensive  ndornuients.  In  these  portieocs  all  classes  were  to  be 
found  amusing  themselves.  Indeed  idleness  and  luxury,  towards 
the  end  of  the  republic,  characterized  efjually  the  richer  and  the 
poorer  citizens.  They  had  approached  that  period  so  necessarily 
incident  to  every  wealthy  and  overgrown  state,  when  industry 
becomes  a  reproach,  and  amusement  forms  the  engrossing  object 
of  life. 

The  passion  for  publ;  games  and  magnificent  spectacles  consti- 
tuted, at  this  period,  a  very  striking  feature  in  the  Roman  charac- 
ter. The  shows  of  the  amphitheatre  rose  naturally  out  of  that 
taste  for  martial  exercises,  which  we  find  in  the  first  ages  of  every 
warlike  people.  About  die  490ih  year  of  Rome,  Marcus  and 
Decimus  Brutus  presented  a  combat  of  gladiators  for  the  first  time 
at  Rome.  About  a  century  after  that  period  the  athletae  were 
introduced  for  a  public  show;  and  there  were  combats  of  slaves 
with  bears  and  lions.  Sylla,  during  his  prstorship,  exhibited  a 
combat  where  a  hundred  men  fought  with  a  hundred  lions ;  and 
Julius  Caesar,  during  his  sedileship,  presented  a  show  where  there 
fought  three  hundred  couples  of  gladiators.*  It  is  astonishing  to 
what  a  height  the  passion  for  these  bloody  entertainments  was 
carried  ;  and  what  is  very  remarkable  was,  that  the  spirit  of  luxury, 
which  is  in  general  found  rather  favorable  to  humanity,  or  at  the 
least  productive  of  a  refinement  of  manners,  amongst  the  Roman 
people,  on  the  contrary,  was  marked  by  an  increasing  and  unnatural 
ferocity  in  the  public  amusements — a  circumstance  not  unworthy 
of  attention  from  those  who,  in  the  present  day,  are  advocates  for 
those  public  fighting  matches  which,  in  point  of  brutality,  are, 
perhaps,  little  inferior  to  the  more  mortal  combats  at  Rome. 

The  Lanista?,  whose  business  it  was  to  instruct  these  gladiators 
m  their  profession,  taught  them  not  only  the  use  of  their  arms, 
but  likewise  the  most  graceful  postures  of  falling  when  they  w^ere 
wounded,  and  the  finest  attitudes  of  dying  in.  The  food  of  these 
unfortunate  victims  was  likewise  prescribed  to  them,  and  was  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  enrich  and  thicken  the  blood,  so  that  it  might 
flow  more  leisurely  through  their  wounds,  and  thus  the  spectators 
might  be  the  longer  gratified  with  the  sight  of  their  agonies. 
These  miserable  beings  were  also  accustomed,  on  entering  their 
profession,  to  take  an  oath,  of  which  the  form  has  been  preserved 
to  us  in  a  fragment  of  Petronius.  "  In  verba  Eumolpi  juravimus, 
uri,  vinciri,  verberari,  ferroque  necari,  ct  quicquid  aliud  Eumolpus 


*  Di(in  Cassius,  in  speakinw  of  Pompey's  shows,  in  which  above  five  hun» 
dred  lions  were  killed,  besides  elephants  and  other  wild  beasts,  tells  us  it  was  a 
miserable  spectacle,  even  to  the  populace,  who  were  affected  by  the  inournfiil 
cries  of  tliese  poor  animals;  (Dion.  b.  xxxix.)  and  Cicero  broadly  condenina 
those  inhuman  spectacles,  as  in  his  time  affording  no  delight  to  the  mob  who 
gazed  upon  them. — Cicero.  Ep'st.  ad  Familiares,  b.  vii.  Episl.  1. 


Ca      I  V.J  ROMAN    GAMES  447 

jjsaisset  tanquain  legiiimi  gladiatores  domino,  corpora  aiiiinosque 
religiosisse  addicimus  " — i.  e.  "  We  swear  llial  we  will  siili'er  our- 
selves to  be  bound,  scourged,  burned,  or  killed  by  the  sword,  or 
whatever  else  Eumolpus  ordains,  and  thus,  like  freeborn  gladiators, 
we  religiously  devote  botb  soul  and  body  to  our  master."  Is  it 
not  dreadful  that  human  nature  should  ever  have  been  reduced  to 
such  a  state  of  degrading  and  incomprehensible  barbarity  .■* 

In  a  former  chapter,  on  the  progress  of  literature  amongst  the 
Romans,  the  entertainments  of  the  theatre  were  discussed  at  some 
length,  but  amongst  these  entertainments  none  during  the  later 
periods  of  the  commonwealth  became  so  popular  as  the  taste  for 
pantomime.  Schools  were  instituted  where  this  art  was  publicly 
taught,  and  these,  we  read,  were  often  njore  fre<]uented  by  the 
younger  patricians  than  the  lectures  of  the  orators.  A  decree  of 
tlie  senate  was  found  necessary  to  prohibit  its  members  from 
attending  these  indecent  assemblies,  and  discharging  all  of 
the  equestrian  order  from  publicly  courting  and  encouraging  the 
performers  of  pantomime.  NVe  may  conceive  to  what  a  pitch  of 
degeneracy  the  public  manners  had  arrived  when  we  read  that 
the  affairs  of  the  slate  were  interrupted,  and  the  minds  of  its  min- 
isters embroiled,  by  the  contentions  of  the  dilFerent  parties  who 
s'upported  each  their  favorite  actors,  and  that,  on  this  account,  it 
was  more  than  once  found  necessary  to  expel  them  from  the  city. 

Following  the  Romans  through  the  ordinary  occupations  of  the 
day,  it  was  customary  for  them  to  go  from  the  porticoes  or  the 
theatre  to  take  the  bath.  Water,  which  in  the  more  frugal  days 
of  the  republic,  was  used  only  for  the  necessary  purposes  of  life, 
was  not  brought  to  Rome  by  aqueducts  till  the  441st  year  of  the 
city.  It  was  till  that  time  drawn  from  the  Tiijer,  or  from  wells  in 
tne  town.  But  it  soon  become  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  luxury, 
to  supply  as  well  the  public  as  the  private  baths,  and  many  aque- 
ducts were  accordingly  built,  and  public  reservoirs  and  fountains 
reared  in  every  quarter  of  the  city.  This  luxury  increased  to  such 
a  degree  that,  under  Augtistus,  there  were  seven  hundred  basins, 
a  hundred  and  five  fountains,  and  a  hundred  and  thirty  public  res- 
ervoirs, all  adorned  in  the  most  sumptuous  manner,  with  columns, 
statues,  and  basso-rclievoes.  To  superintend  these  became  ai: 
office  of  considerable  dignity  and  emolument,  and  under  the  em- 
perors was  filled  mostly  by  men  of  the  first  rank. 

The  practice  of  taking  the  cold  bath  was  in  early  use  in  Rome, 
where  tlie  heat  of  the  climate  and  the  fatigue  attending  the  athletic 
exercises  made  it  re(piisite  alike  for  the  purposes  of  cleanliness  and 
comfort.  It  was  not  till  pretty  late  in  the  republic  that  the  hot  baths 
be"-an  to  be  introduced  ;  but  at  last  it  became  customary  for  all  to 
take  the  warm  bath  before  sitting  down  to  supjjcr.  The  rich  had 
their  baths  in  their  own  houses,  in  which,  as  in  every  other  thing, 
they  vied  with  each  other  in  expense  and  magnificence.  Seneca, 
when  he  speaks  of  this  piece  of  luxury,  tells  us  his  countrymen  dif 


448  UMVEUSAI.    HISTORY.  [cOOK    IV 

daincd  to  sot  llieir  fcot  upon  any  thing  but  precious  stories,  and  Pli- 
ny wishes  old  Fnhricius  alive,  to  witness  the  degeneracy  of  his  pos- 
terity, whose  seats  in  tiieir  private  baths  were  made  of  sohd  siher. 
Under  llie  hiter  emperors,  indeed,  this  luxury  a[)pears  to  have 
been  carried  to  an  almost  incredible  excess.  Tiie  public  baths 
built  by  Augustus,  by  Dioclesian,  and  by  Caracalla,  were  sumptu- 
ous beyond  description.  These  were  open  to  all  the  citizens,  who, 
for  a  triding  gratuity,  had  slaves  to  attend  on  them,  to  assist  them 
in  undressing,  and  to  rub  their  bodies  with  flesh-brushes.  The 
baths  of  Dioclesian  were  so  large  that  they  could  accommodate 
3,000  persons  bathing  at  the  same  time.  They  were  adorned 
with  columns  of  the  finest  marbK',  and  decorated  with  a  profusion 
of  statues  and  of  paintings.  They  consisted  of  a  variety  of  apart- 
ments destined  not  only  for  the  purposes  of  bathing,  but  for  vari- 
ous amusements,  and  even  for  literary  and  philosophic  exercises. 
There  were  public  libraries  adjoining  to  the  baths,  halls  of  resort 
for  the  studious  or  for  the  idle,  who  met  to  talk  over  the  news  of 
the  day;  and  to  these  also  the  poets  resorted,  as  we  have  observed 
they  did  to  the  porticoes,  to  recite  their  compositions. 

In  the  houses  of  the  great,  the  bath  was  used  immediately  before 
they  went  to  supper;  and  they  came  from  the  bath  to  the  table 
in  a  loose  sort  of  robe,  called,  from  its  use,  convivialis  or  triclinaria. 
It  was  customary  for  them  to  sup  between  the  ninth  and  tenth 
hours,  which,  when  the  sun  rose  at  six,  would  correspond  with  our 
three  or  foiir  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  a  proportional  distance  from 
sunset,  as  the  days  were  longer  or  shorter.  They  must,  therefore, 
have  always  sat  down  to  supper  with  day-light,  and  indeed  Vitruvius 
directs  the  supper-room  to  be  constructed  in  such  a  manner  that 
it  shall  have  its  aspect  to  the  setting-sun  :  "  Hyberna  triclinia 
recedentem  solem  spectare  debent,"  lib.  vi.  c.  5  ;  but  they  often, 
however  early  their  hour  of  commencement,  prolonged  the  en- 
tertainment through  most  of  the  night. 

It  is  singular  that,  as  with  us  moderns  luxury  has  thrown  the 
meals  much  later  than  they  were  in  the  more  frugal  days  of  our 
ancestors,  the  same  cause  was  attended  with  very  contrary  effects 
at  Rome.  In  the  early  ages  of  the  commonwealth,  when  day-light 
was  valuable  for  the  purposes  of  labor  and  industry,  the  citizens 
did  not  sup  till  sunset,  but  in  the  more  advanced  periods  of  the 
Roman  state,  when  the  luxury  of  the  table  became  one  of  the  most 
serious  concerns  in  life,  it  was  found  necessary  to  begin  early,  that 
time  might  not  be  found  wanting  for  such  important  concerns.  The 
custom  of  reclining  on  couches  came  not  into  use  till  the  end  of 
the  sixth  century,  and  for  some  time  after  it  was  adopted  by  the 
men,  the  Roman  ladies,  from  motives  of  decency,  continued  to  sit 
upright  at  table  ;  but  these  scruples  w-ere  soon  removed,  and  all 
promiscuously  adopted  the  recumbent  posture,  except  the  youth 
who  had  not  yet  attained  the  age  of  putting  on  the  manly  robe 
They  sat  in  a  respectful  posture  at  the  bottom  of  the  couch. 


CH.   IV.]  ROMAN'    MA.WF.aS.  4  |9 

These  couches  were  ranged  along  tliree  sides  of  a  sf|unre  table, 
which  was  then  called  triclinium,  as  was  likewise  ihe  chamber 
Itself  in  which  they  supped.  The  fourth  side  of  the  .table  remain- 
ed open  for  the  servants  to  place  and  remove  the  dishes.  Above 
was  a  large  canopy  of  cloth  suspended  by  the  corners,  to  prevent 
the  company  being  incommoded  with  dust.  It  was  tliis  custom 
that  enables  Horace  to  introduce  a  ludicrous  accident,  which  lie 
describes  as  occurring  at  a  sujiper  given  by  the  niggardly,  but  osten- 
tatious Nasidienus  to  Macsnas,  and  some  other  courtiers.  Whilst 
the  landlord  is  enlarging  on  the  praises  of  a  favorite  dish,  and 
discussing  the  merits  of  the  component  ingredients  of  the  sauce, 
the  canopy  falls  down  and  involves  every  thing,  host,  cniest,  supper 
and  dishes,  in  a  cloud  of  dust. and  darkness. 

"  Interea  susppnsa  graves  auloea  ruinas 
In  patinam  fecere  trahentia  pulvi'ris  atri 
Quantum  non  Aquilo  Campanis  excitat  airris."  * 

B.  ii.  Sat.  8. 

Every  feast  was  attended  with  a  certain  mixture  of  religious  cere- 
mony. It  began  and  concluded  with  a  libation  to  the  gods.  1 1 
barbarous  nations  we  know  there  was  ever  a  sitong  afliiiity  between 
a  repast  and  a  sacrifice.  The  offerings  to  the  gods  consisted  of 
what  men  es'teemed  always  their  choicest  food,  and  the  priests,  as 
the  ministers  of  the  gods,  ate  the  sacrifice.  The  practice  of  liba- 
tion, also,  was  of  the  highest  antiquity.  It  was  universal  both 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans;  and  the  idea  of  the  meal  being  a 
religious  ceremony,  both  with  regard  to  the  libations  of  wine,  and 
the  offerings  of  the  meat  to  the  priests,  showed  itself  in  several 
other  particulars.  It  was  esteemed  a  most  solemn  obligation,  if  a 
person  laying  his  hand  upon  the  table,  should  pronounce  an  oath. 
The  triclinium  was  looked  upon  as  an  altar.  The  salt  was  also 
held  sacred,  and  it  was  regarded  as  an  unfavorable  omen  should  it 
be  spilled  or  overturned.  It  was  customary,  also,  to  place  upon  the 
table  small  images  or  pcnates — Genii  menscv  prrcsidcs,  or  rpitra- 
petii,  as  they  were  called,  to  whose  honor  it  was  chiefly  that  the 
libation  was  performed.  These  religious  notions  had  this  good 
effect,  that  amidst  all  their  intemperance  the  Romans  accounted  it 
a  s[)ecies  of  sacrilege  to  allow  a  quarrel  or  an  animosity  at  table, 
an(l  the  height  of  impiety  to  commit  any  violence  or  outraEjc.  But 
these  religious  ideas  could  be  only  felt  by  a  moderate  and  a  virtuous 
people.  When  luxury  had  once  spread  its  contagion,  as  was  too 
certainly  the  case  before  the  end  of  the  republic,  a  few  traces  may 
remain  in  customs  and  ceremonies,  but  these  can  only  be  consid- 


'  In  the  tiino  of  Rcnccn,  thoir  halls  of  banqiir't  woro  constrnrtf^d  with  niovn- 
ole  roof^;,  aiiornod  witli  painliiiirs,  so  that  the  roiIm;j  was  inndt-  to  clmnffB 
alonir  with  llic  <iiff(T<'nt  roursos.  "  Wrsatilia  rrpnationiun  la<|ui'iria  itn  rmuiif- 
iiientat  ut  suhinilo  alia  facios  alqiie  alia  succedat,  ct  loti.s  t.cn  nuiitics  t'crcuJ* 
mutenlur."— Seneca,  Epist.  00. 

VOL.    I.  S7 


4.50  UNIVERSAL    HISTOUV.  [boOK    IV. 

ered  as  ilic  sliadous  of  anc  cnt  virtue,  after  the  substance  had  long 
perished.  Such  was  the  case  with  regard  to  the  cerenrionies  we 
have  mcnlioDcd.  Tlicy  still  continued  in  ohscrvanco  after  luxury 
and  debauchery  had  reached  their  utmost  heigiit;  but  all  those 
ideas  of  relij;ion  which  had  been  interwoven  with  them  were  gone 
for  ever. 

It  would  be  a  task  at  once  disagreeable  and  un))roritable  to  de- 
scribe minutely  those  excesses  which  are  painted  in  the  strongest 
and  often  the  most  disgusting  colors  by  the  ancient  writers,  both 
satirists  and  historians,  or  to  dwell  on  the  intemperance  of  those 
degraded  times  when,  as  Livy  tells  us,  '*  a  cook,  who  by  their  fru- 
gal ancestors  was  looked  upon  as  the  vilest  and  meanest  of  slaves, 
was  considered  as  an  oflicer  of  high  importance,  and  that  trade 
dignified  by  the  name  of  an  art,  which  before  was  regarded  as  the 
most  servile  drudgery." 

It  was  a  general  custom,  in  preparing  for  a  luxurious  meal,  to 
take  a  vomit  a  short  time  before  sitting  down  to  table.  This  wa£ 
not  regarded  as  a  mark  either  of  gluttony  or  epicurism,  but  wa* 
held  to  be  done  in  compliment  to  the  entertainer,  that  his  guests 
might  be  enabled  to  carry  off  a  greater  quantity  of  his  good  fare. 
Wiien  Julius  Csesar  paid  a  visit  of  reconcilement  to  Cicero  by  in- 
viting himself  to  sup  with  him,  he  took  care  to  let  Cicero  know 
thai  he  had  taken  a  vomit  before  hand,  and  was  resolved  to  make 
a  most  enormous  meal  —  and  Cicero  tells  us  he  kept  his  word, 
which,  for  his  own  part,  he  took  very  kindly,  and  as  a  mark  of 
CiEsar's  high  politeness.      (Cic.  Epist.  ad  Attic.  13,  52.) 

Compared  with  that  of  the  Romans,  the  luxury  of  the  moderns 
would  scarcely  deserve  the  name  of  intemperance.  Before  the 
princijial  meal  was  placed  on  the  table,  it  was  customary  to  pre- 
sent an  anteccenium  or  collation,  which  consisted  of  pickles  and 
spices,  to  provoke  and  sharpen  the  appetite.  The  thirst  excited 
by  this  prelude  to  more  serious  occupation  was  allayed  by  a  mix- 
ture of  wine  and  honey,  which  they  termed  promulsio.,  and  the 
stomach  being  thus  prepared,  the  supper  itself  was  presented,  after 
a  short  interval.  The  expense  ridiculously  bestowed  on  these  en- 
tertainments, and  the  labor  emjiloyed  in  collecting  the  rarest  and 
most  costly  articles  of  food,  exceed  all  belief.  In  this,  as  indeed 
in  every  other  species  of  luxury,  there  was  the  most  capricious 
refinement  of  extravagance.  Suetonius  mentions  a  supper  given 
to  Vitellius  by  his  brother,  in  which,  among  other  articles,  there 
were  2000  of  the  choicest  fishes  [Icctissimorum  pisc'nim.)  7000  of 
the  most  delicate  birds — one  dish,  from  its  size  and  capacity,  was 
named  the  crgis,  or  shield  of  JMinerva.  It  was  filled  chiefly  with 
the  live»-s  o(  scari  (a  delicate  species  of  fish,)  the  brains  of  pheas- 
ants and  peacocks,  the  tongues  of  parrots  (imagined,  probably,  to 
be  tender  from  their  much  chattering,)  and  the  bellies  of  lampreys, 
brought  from  most  distant  provinces.  This  may  serve  as  some 
specimen  of  the  luxury  of  the  Roman  suppers. 


CII.   V  ]  ROMAS  WARFARE.  4-51 

Their  entertainments  were  accompanied  witli  every  tiling  fitted 
to  flatter  the  senses  and  to  gratify  the  appetite.  Musicians,  male 
and  female  dancers,  players  of  farce  and  pantomime,  jesters  and 
buffoons,  and  oven  gladiators  exhibited  whilst  the  guests  sat  ; 
table.  In  order,  if  possible,  to  restrain  such  extreme  luxury,  a 
variety  of  sumptuary  laws  were  promulgated  from  time  to  time, 
some  of  them  limiting  the  number  of  dishes,  others  the  number  of 
guests,  and  others  the  expense  to  be  bestowed  on  an  entertainment, 
but  all  these  attempts  were  completely  unsuccessful.  How,  in 
effect,  could  it  have  been  possible  to  bring  back  ancient  simplicity, 
unless  they  could  have  also  recalled  ancient  poverty.''  When  a 
state  has  once  become  generally  opulent,  the  expenses  of  the  rich 
must  keep  pace  with  their  fortinics,  otherwise  the  poor  would 
want  employment  and  subsistence.  It  is  luxury  that  is  silently 
levelling  that  inequality,  or  at  least  keeping  fortunes  in  a  constant 
fluctuation,  giving  vigor  in  this  manner  to  all  those  various  parts  of 
the  political  machine,  which  would  be  otherwise  apt  to  lose  their 
strength  and  pliability  for  want  of  motion.  AVe  may  wish  that 
Rome  had  remained  poor  and  virtuous,  but,  being  once  great  and 
opulent,  it  w^as  to  have  required  an  impossibility  that  she  should 
not  have  been  luxurious. 


CHAPTER  V 


On  the  Art  of  War  amon'r  tlie  Romans. 


We  have  seen  the  Romans  engaged  for  many  ages  in  continual 
wars,  first  with  the  petty  states  of  Italy,  and  afterwards  with  for- 
eign lations.  From  the  prodigious  success  which  attended  the 
arms  of  this  remarkable  people,  and  from  the  dominion  which  they 
accomplished,  at  length,  over  almost  the  whoh?  ol  the  known 
world,  it  is  a  necessary  inference  that  they  must  have  carried  the 
knowledge  of  the  art  military  to  a  higher  degree  of  perfection  than 
any  other  of  the  ancient  nations:  to  whatever  collateral  or  partial 
causes  we  may  attribute  the  success  of  some  of  their  warlike  en- 
terprises, the  great  and  leading  cause  of  those  rapia  and  extensive 
conquests  could  have  been  nothing  else  than  the  excellence  of  their 
military  discipline,  compared  to  that  of  the  nation^  whom  iliny  su!)- 
dued     "  It  was  not."  says  Vcgciius,  "to  the  supe-iorify  of  numbers, 


4.'>'2  t;.N(VF.nsAi,  iiisroiiv.  I  nooK   iv 

nor  to  siipt'iior  coin;!!!;"' in  llu;  field,  tli;it  llw  Roinfins  owed  llif.'ir  vif- 
lori(!s;  but  it  was  hy  art  and  l)y  discipline  thai  tliry  dclcniffd  tlioso 
iiniiK'Dsc  hosts  of  (lauls  which  ponn-d  down  upon  Italy;  that  ihcy 
siihducil  th<;  Spaniards,  a  liardior  and  tnorc  warlikn  race  than  thenj- 
sclvc's;  the  Africans,  whose  wcahh  furnished  inexhaiistihio  armies; 
and  contincred  even  the  Greeks,  whose  military  ahiliiies  were  for 
many  a^i^s  superior  to  their  own." 

Tlie  nature  of  this  inililary  discipline,  by  wliich  the  Rorrani 
beranif!  masters  of  the  world,  is,  therefore,  an  object  extremely  de- 
serving of  attention;  and  I  shall  endeavor  here  to  give  some  idea 
of  the  stale  of  the  art  of  war,  such  as  we  find  it  to  have  hecii  in 
the  latter  ages  of  the  commonwealth,  and  in  the  first  period  of  the 
history  of  the  em])ire. 

In  a  former  chapter,  in  treating  of  the  system  of  Roman  educa- 
tion, we  have  taken  notice  of  those  exercises  of  the  body  to  which 
all  the  youth  of  the  republic  were  accustomed  from  their  earliest 
infancy.  Dy  the  constant  j)ractice  of  wrestling,  boxing,  launch- 
ing the  javelin,  running,  and  swimming,  ihey  were  inured  from 
their  cradle  to  that  species  of  life  which  a  soldier  leads  in  the  most 
active  campaign  in  the  field.  They  were  accustomed  to  the  mili- 
tary pace,  that  is,  to  walk  twenty  miles,  and  sometimes  twenty- 
four,  in /our  hours.  During  these  marches  they  carried  burdens 
of  sixty  pounds'  weight;  and  the  weapons  with  which  they  were 
armed  were  double  the  weight  of  those  which  were  used  in  the 
actual  field  of  battle.* 

Every  year  after  the  election  of  the  consuls,  twenty-four  mili- 
tary tribunes  were  chosen;  fourteen  from  the  order  of  the  Eqiii- 
tes^  and  ten  from  the  body  of  the  citizens.  The  people  were  then 
assembled  by  an  edict  of  the  consuls,  commanding  all  who  had 
attained  the  age  of  seventeen  to  appear  in  the  area  before  the 
capitol  on  an  appointed  day.  According  to  the  number  of  le- 
gions which  were  to  be  formed,  they  appointed  to  each  legion  a 
certain  number  of  tribunes.  The  tribes  were  then  called  out  and 
divided  into  their  proper  centuries,  and  each  century  presented  by 
rotation  as  many  soldiers  as  there  were  legions  intended  to  be 
raised.     If  there  were  four  legions,  each  century  took  its   turn   m 

p  ung  four  soldiers;  and  of  these    four,  the    tribunes    of  the 

first  legion  had  the  first  choice  of  a  man,  the  second  the  next,  and 
so  on  :  then  four  more  were  drawn  out,  and  the  second  legion  had 
the  first  choice.  In  the  next  selection,  the  third  legion  chose  first, 
and  in  the  following  the  fourth.  Thus  there  was  the  utmost  equal- 
ity in  the  distribution  of  the  citizens  in  the  several  legions. 

The  number  of  soldiers  in  the  legion  was  various  at  different 
periods.     At  earlier  times  it  consisted  of  3000,  of  4000,  of  5000, 


*  Vegetius  de   Re   IMilitari,  c.  2. ;  and  Josephus,  de  Bello  JoJaico,  has  o^iveq 
■ome  very  curious  details  of  the  Roman  discipline. 


CH.    v.]  ROMAN     WAKKARE.  453 

and  GOOO;  but  under  the  emperors  it  might  amount  to  even  10,000 
or  11,000  men. 

Among  the  ancient  nations  there  were  in  general  but  two  differ- 
ent arrangements  of  the  troops  in  order  of  battle.  Tlie  one  was 
that  of  the  phalanx,  commonly  used  by  the  Greeks  ;  the  other 
was  the  disposition  of  the  troops  by  manipuli^  or  companies,  ar- 
ranged in  the  form  of  a  chequer  or  quincunx,  which,  afier  the  war 
with  Pyrrhus,  became  the  ordinary  arrangement  of  the  Roman 
army,  and  was  probably  then  first  tried  as  the  most  commodious 
disposition  against  the  attack  of  the  elephants.  In  the  order  of  the 
phalanx,  the  heavy-armed  infantry  were  all  ranged  upon  one  con- 
tinued line,  with  no  other  intervals  than  those  which  distinguished 
the  great  divisions.  In  the  quincunx  order,  a  number  of  small 
companies  or  platoons  were  ranged  in  three  straight  lines,  one  be- 
hind the  other,  with  alternate  spaces  between  them,  equal  to  the 
front  of  each  company. 

In  the  first  line  were  the  Ilastati,  heavy-armed  troops,  who  at 
first  used  long  spears,  but  afterwards  laid  them  aside  for  the  pilum, 
or  great  javelin,  and  the  sword  and  buckler.  In  the  second  line 
were  the  Principes,  likewise  armed  with  the  pilum  and  sword  and 
buckler  ;  and  in  the  third  line  were  the  Triarii,  armed  with  the 
long  spear,  formerly  used  by  the  hastati,  and  chiefly  intended  to 
sustain  the  shock  of  the  enemy's  cavalry.  On  the  flanks  of  the 
line  of  the  hastati  were  placed  the  cavalry,  likewise  m  detached 
manipuli  or  companies,  armed  only  with  a  lance  and  javelin,  point- 
ed at  the  end,  and  a  small  buckler.  Immediately  before  the  har- 
tati,  and  in  the  front  of  the  line,  were  placed  the  Velites,  or  light- 
armed  troops,  who  usually  began  the  engagement,  and,  after  main- 
tainins:  a  skirmisiiing  fight  for  awhile,  drew  off  to  the  rear,  and 
retired  behind  the  triarii,  leaving  the  main  body  to  come  into  ac- 
tion. After  the  velites  had  withdrawn,  the  hastati  usually  began 
the  attack,  by  throwing  the  pilum,  or  great  javelin,  which  was  a 
ponderous  spear  of  seven  feet  in  length,  and  of  such  thickness  as 
barely  to  be  grasped  in  the  hand.  It  could  not  be  used  at  a  dis- 
tance, from  its  immense  weight  ;  but  within  the  space  of  twenty 
or  thirty  yards  its  efiect  was  dreadful.  After  the  discharge  of  the 
pila,  the  hastati  rushed  on  with  the  sword  and  buckler,  which 
were  now  their  only  weapons.  The  Roman  sword  was  about  a 
foot  and  a  half  in  length,  two-edged,  with  a  broad  blade,  tajiering 
to  a  jtjint,  so  as  to  serve  both  for  cutting  and  thrusting.*     What 


•  Tlie  kind  and  quality  of  weapons  is  of  very  i^rpat  consequence  in  war.  The 
Roman  sword  was  a  weapon  of  rrrcat  power  and  etricacy.  Tlie  Romans  owned 
themselves  inferior  to  the  Cinibri  in  cotiraire  and  martial  heroigm  ;  nn-d  confessed 
that  even  their  superior  discipline  could  not  have  availed  them  aijainsl  the  pro 
digious  impetuosity  of  the  attacks  of  this  people;  hut,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
swords  of  the  Cimbri  were  of  bad  temper  compared  to  theirs.  They  often  bent 
Rt  the  first  stroke;  and  the  soldier  was  obliged  to  Btraighten  his  BWord  with  hi» 
foot  before  iie  cnuld  make  a  second  stroke. 


451  UNIVEUSAI,    UISTOKV  [bOOK  IT 

is  sijigiilar  is,  ili;it  il  was  made  of  brass,  but  of  so  bard  a  composi- 
tion as  to  shiver  like  stoel.  The  sword  and  buckler  were  common 
to  all  the  ranks  of  the  infantry.* 

The  advantage  of  the  chequer  oi-  quincunx  arrangement  of  the 
legion  was,  that  the  Roman  army  could  tlwee  times  form  the  line 
of  battle  with  fresh  troops.  Suj)posiiig  the  hastali  to  be  foiled  m 
their  first  onset,  and  even  put  to  flight,  the  enemy  found  a  new 
line  of  battle  presented  by  the  principes,  who,  using  the  same 
arms,  first  began  with  the  terrible  discharge  of  the  pila,  and  then 
fought  with  the  short  sword.  Meantime  the  hasiati  had  time  to 
rally,  and  to  form  a  new  line  behind  the  triarii. 

No  form  could  be  so  admirably  adapted  as  that  of  the  quincunx 
for  changing  movements  according  to  the  disj)osition  of  the  ene- 
my's line.  On  advancing,  for  example,  to  meet  such  an  arn)y  as 
the  Gauls,  ranged  in  the  order  of  the  phalanx,  nothing  was  easier 
than  to  form  a  great  front  like  that  of  the  enemy,  without  any  in- 
tervals, by  bringing  up  the  principes  to  fill  the  spaces  betwixt  the 
companies  of  the  hastati.  When,  again,  they  had  to  do  with  an 
enemy  less  active,  but  to  whom  they  did  not  wish  to  give  an  oppor- 
tunity of  insinuating  themselves  between  the  manipuli,  they  filled 
up  the  intervals  with  the  veliles,  and  kept  the  principes  in  the 
second  line  with  the  triani-,  as  a  corps  de  reserve.  In  those  en- 
gagements where  the  enemy  had  in  their  front  a  train  of  elephants, 
upon  the  advance  of  those  animals,  nothing  more  w-as  requisite 
than  for  the  principes  to  march  to  a  side,  and  form  themselves  in  a 
line  with  the  hasiati  and  triarii;  in  other  words,  to  form  themselves 
into  columns,  with  open  spaces  between  each  column.  Thus  the 
elephants,  persecuted  and  driven  on  by  the  velites  found  an  entrance 
by  these  spaces  between  the  columns,  and  passed  through  the  le- 
gion without  doing  any  mischief.  This  manoeuvre  was  practised 
by  Scipio  at  the  battle  of  Zama,  and  by  Regulus,  in  his  engage- 
ment in  Africa  with  Xantippus. 

The  quincunx  disposition  was  for  some  ages  the  characteristic  of 
the  Roman  legion,  which  scarcely  used  any  other  method  of  ar- 
rangement ;  but  the  Romans  afterwards  made  many  innovations 
iipon  the  ancient  tactic. f-  From  the  time  of  Marius  the  quin- 
cunx had  gone  into  disuse,  and  Ctrsar  describes  the  legions  in  his 
wars  as  under  a  quite  different  form.  The  three  manipuli  of  has- 
iati, principes,  and  triarii  composed  a  cohort,  and  were  ranged  not 
by  intervals,  but  in  a  line  behind  each  other — or  in  columns  ; — 
the  triarii,  armed  with  the  long  spears,  being  usually  pk.ced  in  the 
front.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  in  what  respects  this  disposition  ex- 
celled the  former.     From  this   period  the  tactic  of  the  Romans 


*  For  an  account  of  the  arms  of  the  Roman  legion,  see  Lipsius  de  Militia 
Homana,  c.  3. 

t  Pee  a  very  good  account  of  the  state  of  the  art  military  under  the  eraperom 
in  Gibbon's  history,  vol.  i.,  c.  1 


■CH     v.]  IIOMA.V    WARFARE.  455 

was  perpetually  changing,  and,  in  tlie  opinion  of  llie  ablo.jt  judges, 
growing  worse  from  age  to  age.* 

At  no  time  was  the  tactic  of  the  Romans  more  excellent  than 
during  the  Punic  wars,  and  to  that  cause  we  may  atiribiiie  their 
successes  against  an  enemy  so  formidable  as  the  Cartba'^inians, 
and  commanded  by  such  able  generals.  The  chief  talent  of  Han- 
nibal lay  in  varying  and  adapting  the  arrangement  of  his  artny 
according  to  circumstances  of  local  situation;  and  often  striking 
out  some  new  and  unexpected  disposition  formed  in  the  instant  of 
action,  which  disconcerted  all  the  uniform  and  regular  plans  of  the 
Romans.  Such  was  that  most  remarkable  disposition  of  the  Car- 
thaginian army  at  the  battle  of  Cannae,  which  decided  the  fate  of 
that  important  day,  by  the  utter  destruction  of  the  Roman  army. 
I  shall  endeavour  to  give  an  idea  of  this  very  curious  disposition, 
of  which  Poiybius  has  left  a  full  account;  and  I  select  it  lor  this 
reason,  that  it  has  been  misunderstood  and  misrepresented  by  the 
Chevalier  Folard,  a  very  able  writer  on  the  art  military,  but  who, 
from  his  ignorance  of  the  Greek  language,  was  obliged  to  rely  on 
the  Latin  translation  of  a  monk  who  knew  nothing  of  the  art  of 
war.  The  errors  of  Folard  have  been  fully  pointed  out  in  the 
J\Iemoires  J\[iUtaircs  of  M.  Guichard. 

Hannibal  having  passed  the  winter  and  spring  in  quarters,  be- 
gan the  campaign  by  ravaging  the  whole  country;  and  finding  his 
armv  in  want  of  provisions,  he  marched  towards  Canna;,  situated 
in  a  mountainous  part  of  Apulia;  a  village  where  the  Romans 
liad  established  their  magazines,  and  where  they  had  brought  all 
the  military  stores  and  provisions  they  had  carried  from  Canusium. 
Hannibal  took  Cannae  by  surprise;  which,  depriving  the  Romans 
of  their  stores,  disconcerted  their  whole  plan  of  operations.  They 
could  no  longer  pretend  to  harass  and  weary  out  the  Carthagin- 
ians, but  were  obliged  to  think  of  giving  them  battle.  The  sen 
ate,  in  this  emergency,  sent  a  powerful  reinforcement  to  the  army, 
which  now  amounted  to  80,000  men  under  two  consuls,  Varro  and 
.(Emilius;  the  latter  a  general  of  great  experience,  but  cool  and 
deliberate;   the  former  rash,  impetuous,  and  extremely  obstinate 


*  We  mny  Iparn  from  Vejretius  the  constilulion  of  the  Romans  lotion  under 
Trajnn  and  Hadrian.  The  hpavy-armed  infantry  was  then  divided  into  ten 
cohorts,  <ir  fillv-five  cotnpanicf,  uiid'-r  n  rorrospondi-nl  nninber  of  trihiines  and 
centurions.  'I'ho  first  Cdhort,  wliich  had  the  pi>*t  of  hr>n»r  nnd  tlie  riislody  of 
the  eagle,  consisted  of  11 0.'i  soldiers,  the  remaining  nine  consisted  ench  of  .Vio. 
The  number  of  infantry  in  the  whole  leiriiui  was,  therefore,  (ilOO  men.  Their 
offensive  arms  were,  1st,  the  pilum  ;  2d,  a  Ii;jht  spear;  Td.  the  Fwnrd.  The 
lejrion  was  usually  drawn  up  eiirtit  deep,  with  a  distance  of  three  feet  both  be- 
tween the  files  lind  ranks.  The  cavalry  of  the  legion  was  divided  into  ten 
squadrons;  the  first,  in  propnrtion  to  the  first  cohort,  consisting  of  ][\2  men, 
the  rest  only  of  (>(i — in  all  7'2(i  horse.  The  horses  of  the  cavalry  were  bred 
chiefly  in  Spain  and  Cappadocia.  Thi-  arms  of  the  men  consisted  of  n  lielmet, 
an  obioniT  shield,  light  boots,  a  coat  of  niiiil,  a  j.iveliii,  and  a  hmg  broadsword. 
They  borrowed  afterwards  from  the  barbarians  the  use  of  lance*  and  ir»t 
mae.cs.  • 


4.56  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK  IV 

iEmilus,  sensible  that  the  great  superiority  of  Hannibal's  army  laj 
in  his  cavnlry,  wished  to  delay  coming  to  an  action  till  his  situation 
should  aiTord  the  best  opportunity  for  the  operations  of  infantry. 
Varro  was  for  an  immediate  attack,  and  it  being  hi.s  tinn  to  com- 
mand, a  pretty  smart  engngerncnt  ensued,  wliich  terrninaled  doubt- 
fully, but  rather  to  the  advantage  of  the  Romans.  Encouraged  by 
this  first  success,  they  brooked  with  great  impatience  the  cautious 
delays  of  ^milius,  who  was  still  averse  to  a  general  engagement. 
The  day  following,  when  it  was  again  the  turn  of  Varro  to  com- 
mand in  chief,  he  ordered  the  army  to  take  the  field  early  in  the 
morning,  and  to  pass  the  river  Aufidus,  which  lay  between  them 
and  the  Carthaginians.  They  passed  without  opposition,  as  Han- 
nibal chose  to  rest  every  thing  upon  a  very  artful  mana^uvre^ 
which  he  had  planned,  to  be  discovered  only  in  the  moment  of 
engagement. 

Tlie  usual  disposition  of  the  Carthaginians  was  that  of  the  pha- 
lanx. Varro  resolved  to  imitate  this  disposition,  and  to  give  his 
army  a  front  similar  to  it.  His  ignorance  of  the  art  of  war  here 
led  him  into  a  great  error.  He  neglected  the  advantages  which 
the  legion  derived  from  the  ordinary  disposition  of  the  quincunx, 
and  endeavored  to  give  a  solidity  and  depth  to  his  line,  erpial  to 
that  of  the  Carthaginians,  not  attending  to  this  circumstance,  that 
the  arms  of  the  legion  were  not  suited  to  the  close  and  compress- 
ed position,  on  which  depended  the  strength  of  the  phalanx;  for 
the  hastati  and  the  principes  could  neither  throw  their  pila  with 
effect,  nor  manage  their  swords  for  want  of  room  :  and  the  triarii, 
ranged  immediately  behind  and  close  upon  the  manipuli  of  the 
hastati,  could  not,  with  their  long  spears,  be  of  the  smallest  service. 
Such,  however,  was  Varro 's  disposition  :  he  brought  up  the  prin- 
cipes to  fill  the  spaces  between  the  companies  of  the  hastati,  and 
advanced  the  triarVi,  so  as  to  join  their  companies  to  those  of  the 
hastati.  On  the  right  and  left  wing  were  the  Roman  cavalry, 
greatly  inferior,  as  we  have  already  observed,  to  those  of  the  Car- 
thaginians; and  the  velites  or  light  infantry  were  ranged  as  usual  in 
the  front  of  the  line. 

Hannibal,  whose  army  amounted  to  40,000  foot  and  10,000 
horse,  arranged  the  main  body  of  his  infantry  in  the  close  order  of 
the  phalanx;  placing  the  best  of  his  African  heavy-armed  troops 
to  the  right  and  left  of  the  line,  and  in  the  centre  the  Gauls  and 
Spaniards,  armed  only  with  the  sword  and  buckler.  On  the  right 
and  left  wings  of  his  phalanx  he  posted  the  cavalry,  immediately 
opposite  to  those  of  the  enemy;  and  in  the  front  of  his  line  were 
ranged  the  Carthaginian  light  troops,  in  the  same  manner  as  those 
of  the  Romans.  Having  thus  formed  the  great  line  of  the  pha- 
lanx, Hannibal  ordered  the  Gauls  and  Spaniards  in  the  centre  to 
exter>d  themselves  forward  from  the  main  body  in  a  semi-circular 
curve.  This  movement  was  concealed  from  the  Romans,  by  the 
Ijne   of  the   Carthaginian  light  troops,  and   was  not  perceived  till 


CH.   V.J  ROMAN    WARFARE CA.NN.E.  467 

after  the  skirmishing  of  the  velites,  when  these  troops  as  uas  usua!. 
fell  back  behind  the  main  body. 

The  action  began  by  these  light  troops,  and  continued  |)rett*' 
long  ai>d  obstinate,  while  in  the  meantime  the  Carthaginian  cavaJrr 
attacked  the  Roman  horse  on  both  wings,  and  being  infiniteb 
superior  to  them  in  number,  broke,  dispersed,  and  cut  them  all  t( 
pieces.  The  signal  was  now  given  for  the  velites  on  both  sides  tr 
fall  back,  and  the  Romans  then,  for  the  first  time,  perceived  tlu 
curve  in  the  Carthaginian  front,  which,  being  far  advanced,  camt 
n  contact  with,  and  was  immediately  attacked  by,  the  centre  of 
the  Roman  line.  The  Gauls  and  Spaniards  who  formed  the  curve, 
unable  to  sustain  the  impetuosity  of  this  onset,  gave  way,  as  Han- 
nibal had  expected;  while  that  part  of  the  Roman  line,  impetu- 
ously pursuing  its  advantage,  pushed  forward  in  j)roportion  as  Uie 
enemy  retreated,  by  which  means  the  Roman  line  was  bent  ni  tlic 
middle  into  an  angular  form.  This  position  was  what  Hannibal 
foresaw  and  wished  for.  The  Gauls  and  Spaniards,  su|)|)oried 
behind  by  the  velites,  formed  a  sort  of  new  concave  curve;  and 
the  heavy-armed  infantry,  the  strength  of  the  Carthaginian  army, 
who  had  hitherto  remained  inactive,  were  now  marched  up,  so  as 
to  come  in  contact  with  the  opposite  })art  of  the  Roman  line, 
which  was  hurrying  on  to  pursue  the  advantage  gained  by  the 
centre,  but  which,  now  that  the  Africans  were  advanced,  found 
themselves  inclosed  like  a  wedge. 

In  the  meantime  the  Carthaginian  cavalry  under  the  command 
of  Asdrubal,  having  entirely  cut  to  pieces  die  horse  of  the  enemy, 
doubled  the  flanks  of  the  Roman  army,  and  poured  down  upon 
the  rear.  They  were  now  inclosed  and  furiously  attacked  on 
every  quarter.  The  contest  was  not  of  long  duration.  The 
Romans,  pressed  together,  had  no  space  to  use  their  arms.  It 
was,  upon  the  part  of  the  Carthaginians,  an  absolute  massacre  and 
butcheiy;  70,000  of  the  Romans  were  killed  upon  the  s|)ot,  and 
10,000  taken  prisoners.  Such  was  the  celebrated  batile  of  Can- 
nae, according  to  the  idea  given  by  M.  Guichard,  which  is  sup- 
ported, in  every  particular,  by  the  text  of  Poiybiiis. 

The  disposition  of  the  quincunx  wouKl  in  all  probal)ility  have 
saved  the  Roman  army,  and  disa|)pointed  the  cflect  of  Hannibal's 
artfid  manft'uvre;  which  it  is  j)robable  he  had  conceived  only 
upon  seeing  the  enemy  in  the  order  of  the  phalanx  :  for  had  the 
legions  been  formed  in  the  order  of  the  quincunx,  only  the  first 
line  of  the  hastati  could  have  given  into  the  snare  which  was  laid 
for  them,  and  the  principes  and  triarii,  entire  and  unbroken,  must 
have  been  an  overmatch  for  all  that  was  o|iposc(l  to  them. 

The  quincunx,  notwithstanding  its  great  adviinlagcs,  was,  as  I 
have  already  observed,  disused  in  the  times  of  the  emperors,  and 
conse(piently  the  arms  of  the  soldiers  must  likewise  ha\e  under- 
gone considerable  changes.  In  the  time  of  Vcgcliu,;,  thai  is  to 
say,  under  Valentinian,  and  probably  long  before  that  period,  llj^ 
VOL.  1.  5S 


458  UNIVERSAL     HISTORY.  [nOOK   IV 

piliiin,  llic  niosl  foriiiidahlo  of  ilio  Roman  weapons,  was  entirely 
laid  asi(l(?,  and  a  variety  of  weapons  inlroduf-ed,  wliicli  are  de- 
scribed l)y  that  aullior,  bnt  wliicli  were  c|iiitc  unknown  during  the 
perfoetion  of  the  art  of  war  among  the  Romans. 

One  most  material  part  of  the  military  science  among  the  Ro- 
mans was  their  art  of  intrenchinent.  It  was  to  the  perfection  to 
which  Caesar  carried  this  art,  that  he  owed  many  of  his  greatest 
advantages  in  war.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  maxim  of  his,  that 
t  was  possible  to  make  up  for  any  inferiority  in  the  number  of  his 
troops,  by  the  additional  strength  of  his  intrenchnients.  Thus 
with  GO, 000  men  he  defended  himself  in  his  intrenchnients  be- 
fore »/?/e.r/rr,  while  the  lines  of  circumvallation  were  attacked  by 
240,000  Gauls,  and  the  lines  of  countervallation  by  80,000,  with 
5ut  any  efl'ect. 

These  intrenchments  were  thrown  up  with  amazing  despatch. 
Every  soldier  upon  his  march  carried  along  with  him  his  palisade, 
which  was  a  strong  branch  of  a  tree,  having  at  one  end  three  or 
four  smaller  branclies  sharpened  to  a  point  and  hardened  in  the 
fire.  When  the  square  of  the  camp  was  traced  out,  each  soldier, 
throwing  aside  his  buckler,  began  to  dig  a  ditch,  ordinarily  nine 
feet,  but  sometimes  fourteen  or  fifteen  feet  in  depth,  and  as  much 
in  width.  The  earth  was  thrown  up  upon  the  inside  in  the  form 
of  a  rampart  four  or  five  feet  in  height,  which  was  faced  on  the 
outside  widi  those  palisadoes  or  stipitcs^  strongly  fixed  in  the 
earth,  and  set  so  near  each  other  that  the  branches,  crossing  ob- 
\iquely,  presented  their  ])oints  outwards,  and  thus  formed  a  strong 
liedge  of  irregular  points,  which  it  was  extremely  difficult  to 
pierce.  On  each  side  of  the  square  of  the  camp  was  a  gate  or 
issue,  where  a  strong  guard  was  always  posted,  which  no  soldier 
could  pass  without  leave,  under  pain  of  death. 

When  a  city  was  besieged,  it  was  customary  for  the  Romans  to 
divide  their  forces  into  several  camps,  encircling  the  place,  and 
joined  to  each  other  by  strong  lines  of  circumvallation  and  coun- 
tervallation. As  the  science  of  attack  and  defence  of  fortified 
towns  was  carried  to  a  great  degree  of  perfection,  both  by  the  Ro- 
mans and  the  Greeks,  I  shall  endeavour  to  give  some  idea  of  this 
branch  of  the  military  art  among  the  ancients,  concerning  which 
several  or"  the  modern  writer's  are  very  much  at  variance. 

The  Chevalier  Folard,  in  his  Commentary  on  Poly  bins,  makes 
the  military  art  of  the  ancients  by  far  too  complicated,  and  much 
more  so  than  a  plain  construction  of  the  words  of  his  author,  or, 
indeed,  of  any  other  of  the  ancient  writers,  will  wari-ant. 

In  his  treatise  on  the  attack  and  defence  of  fortified  jilaces,  he 
endeavours  to  prove,  that,  excepting  the  use  of  gunpowder  and 
artillery,  every  operation  used  by  modern  engineers  was  known 
and  practised  by  the  ancients;  and  that,  in  particular,  the  mode 
of  approach  by  parallels  and  trenches  was  in  continual  use.  Yet 
t  is  very  certain,  as    M.   Guichard   has   aliindantly   shown,   that 


CH.    V.J  ROMAN    SIKGES.  453 

those  authors  who  have  written  most  niimitoly  of  the  most  iinpor- 
laiit  sieges,  as  Polybius,  Cccsar,  Arrian,  and  Josephus,  and  who 
express  iheniselves  in  their  details  with  very  ^reai  persjjicuiiy, 
give  not  the  smallest  countenance  to  such  a  notion. 

The  Romans  observed  two  methods  of  proceeding  in  their 
sieges  ;  tlie  one  was  by  means  of  tlie  iv^^cr^  a  sort  of  terrace  or 
mound  ofearlli,  on  which  they  advanced  their  machines;  and  the 
other  was  by  bringing  up  their  machines  to  the  foot  of  the  vvail-j 
without  the  help  of  such  a  terrace.  The  first  was  necessary  oidv 
where  the  place  was  very  strong,  and  the  walls  skilf.illy  guarded 
and  fortifietl.  The  method  of  proceeding  against  such  fortified 
places  was  this: — The  aruiy,  as  I  before  observed,  was  divided 
into  dilierpnt  quarters,  separately  intrenched  around  the  city,  which 
intrenc'liinents  coninninicated  with  each  other  by  a  line  of  counter- 
vallation  draun  on  the  side  next  the  town,  and  a  line  of  circumval- 
lation  on  the  outside,  to  defend  against  attacks  from  the  (piarlcr  of 
the  country.  Then  the  ground  was  chosen  for  the  construction 
of  tlie  agger,  or  terrace,  which  was  a  lengthened  mound  of  earth, 
beginning  by  a  gentle  slope,  from  one  of  tiie  camps,  and  proceed- 
ing forward,  gradually  increasing  in  elevation  as  it  aj)proached  the 
town.  As  this  terrace  was  to  be  the  stage  from  which  all  the 
engines  of  attack  were  to  be  played  against  the  city,  it  was  the 
object  of  the  besieged  to  endeavor,  by  every  possible  means,  to 
prevent  the  carrying  on  of  this  work.  Siones,  darts,  and  combustible 
matters  were  continually  launched  against  the  operators  ;  and  some- 
times a  mine  was  dug  from  the  city,  to  pass  under  the  front  of  the 
terrace,  and  scoop  away  its  foundation. 

The  besiegers,  on  the  other  hantl,  guarded  against  these  annoy- 
ances by  protecting  tiiemselves,  while  at  work,  under  covered 
sheds,  termed  vinecB,  which  were  composed  of  hurdles,  or  wicker- 
work,  covered  with  hides,  and  supported  on  stakes,  whiih  ihcy 
moved  along  as  the  work  advanced.  The  front  of  the  terrace, 
where  the  workmen  were  chiefly  employed, was  prolecteil  either 
by  a  testudo,  or  covered  pent-house,  or  simply  by  a  curtain  of 
sicins,  supported  upon  a  large  tree,  laid  transversely  upon  two 
others. 

•When  the  besiegers,  under  these  covers,  had  brought  the  aggei, 
or  terrace,  sull'icienily  near  to  the  wall,  tlu-y  then  advaiuM-d  tlw 
engines  of  attack.  The  catapulttv  and  balislit  were  rangiMJ  upon 
the  terrace,  at  distances  proportioned  to  their  several  projec  tile 
powers,  and  advanced  or  drawn  back  till  they  were  made  to  bear 
upon  the  very  spot  which  the  besiegers  intend  to  assail.  The 
powers  of  these  eni;ine3  of  attack  almost  exceed  credibility.  The 
calapnlta  cenlcniiria,  which  was  the  smallest  si/e  of  these  ma- 
chines, threw  a  weight  of  100  pounds  to  the  distance  of  •'iOO 
paces.  The  kindest  catapulta^  threw  stones  of  IJOO  poumls' 
wei'iht.  The  l):distCE  were  consiruci<'d  for  throwin-.;  great  anil 
hea\  y  darts.     As  to  the  particular  construction  of  these  machine* 


1(iO  uNivr.KSAL   iiisTonr.  [book  iv 

ue  can  only  form  conjectures.  The  conirncntalors  o.i  Vegetius 
!iavc  given  several  dinbrcnt  forms  of  catapultae  and  balistse,  but 
diey  are  by  far  too  complicated,  and  have  a  great  deal  of  needless 
machinery  of  wheels,  |)iiileys,  axles,  and  levers.  Much  simpler 
contrivances  might  answer  the  same  end,  and  be  more  easily  man- 
aged. The  form  of  the  catapulta,  given  by  M.  f'olard,  is  siifli- 
cienlly  simple,  and  corresponds  well  enough  uiUi  the  description 
in  Vegetius. 

A  large  lever  is  fixed  at  the  lower  end  between  two  cables, 
very  strongly  twisted;  the  lever  has,  at  the  upper  end,  a  hollow 
in  the  form  of  a  dish,  for  receiving  the  stone  or  ball  which  is  to 
be  thrown.  It  is  brought  down  to  a  horizontal  position  by  means 
of  this  rope  and  hand-lever,  which  straightens  the  c;:ble  s|)ring; 
and  when  let  off  by  means  of  a  catch,  it  returns  to  its  position  with 
prodigious  force,  and  striking  against  the  crossbar  at  the  top,  the 
stone  or  ball  is  projected  to  a  very  great  distance. 

The  balista,  for  throwing  arrow^s,  was,  according  to  the  Idea  ol 
M.  Folard,  of  a  construction  considerably  difTerent,  though  de- 
pending on  the  same  mechanical  principles  with  the  catapulta; 
yet,  from  the  promiscuous  use  of  the  two  terms,  which  we  often 
find  made  by  tlie  ancient  authors,  I  think  it  is  not  at  all  improb- 
able that  the  same  machine  might  have  been  so  contrived  as  to 
serve  both  for  stones  and  arrows:  for  instance,  nodiing  more  was 
necessary  than  to  fix  a  sort  of  long  trough  or  groove,  horizontally 
projecting  from  the  cross-beam  at  the  top,  in  which  the  arrows 
should  be  placed,  with  their  ends  a  little  advanced  beyond  the 
line  of  the  cross-beam.  It  is  evident,  that  when  the  spring-lever 
struck  against  the  beam,  so  as  to  throw  out  a  stone  from  the  dish, 
the  arrows  in  the  groove,  receiving  the  whole  force  of  the  stroke, 
would  be  discharged  with  great  violence  at  the  same  time. 

But  these  engines,  the  catapulta?  and  balistae,  though  most  for- 
midable in  their  effects,  were  incapable  of  making  a  breach  in  the 
walls  of  a  strongly  fortified  city.  The  only  engine  capable  of  produc- 
ing this  efi'ect  was  the  battering  ram;  and  the  whole  contrivances 
of  the  ULCgeres,  or  terraces,  towers,  testudines^  rineo'.,  or  covered 
galleries,  had  no  other  object  than  to  facilitate  the  approach  of  the 
ram,  which,  if  it  was  once  effected,  and  the  engine  had  free  space 
to  play,  all  ancient  authors  are  agreed  that  it  was  decisive  of  the 
fate  of  the  town.  No  wall,  however  strong,  was  capable  of  resist- 
ing its  force.  The  object,  therefore,  of  the  besiegers  was,  by 
means  of  the  catapultae  and  balistEc,  and  by  the  command  which 
the  elevation  of  the  terrace  gave  them,  to  clear  the  walls  of  their 
defenders,  and  to  obstruct  the  play  of  those  engines  which  the 
besieged  were  continually  working  to  prevent  the  approach  of  the 
ram,  or  to  weaken  its  force;  so  that,  as  soon  as  the  besiegers  from 
the  terrace  were  able  to  silence  the  batteries  from  the  walls,  the 
ram,  coming  up  in  security  under  the  cover  of  a  testudo,  began  to 
play  without  intermission  till  the  breach  was  effected.     It  consisted 


CII.   V.J  ROMAN    SIEGES.  46| 

of  an  j^iiormous  beam  of  wood,  anned  at  the  one  end  uiih  a  head 
of  iron,  and  suspended  so  as  to  hang  in  cquili'rio,  fionj  a  cross- 
beam  of  the  tcsuido,  or  pcnt-lioiise. 

Tlie  besiegers,  besides  employing  the  contrivances  of  aggeres, 
tcstudines,  vinccc,  and  battering  ram,  constructed  frequently  mova- 
ble towers  of  such  a  height  as  to  overtop  the  walls  of  the  city  ; 
and  these  towers  answered  a  variety  of  pjirposes.  The  under 
part  of  the  tower  served  for  a  testudo  to  a  battering  ram,  which 
played  under  its  cover,  while  on  tho  lop  were  planted  archers  and 
slingers  to  clear  the  ramparts  of  those  who  endeavored  to  coun- 
teract the  operation  of  the  ram  by  letting  down  groat  beams, 
chains,  and  hoops  to  destroy  its  equilibrium,  and  impede  its  mo- 
tion. These  movable  towers  were  frequently  so  constructed  as 
to  let  down,  from  the  side  next  to  the  city,  a  platform  to  serve  as 
a  bridge  from  the  tower  to  the  top  of  the  walls,  by  means  of  which 
an  access  was  gained  for  the  besiegers  into  the  city. 

For  the  defence  of  the  city,  the  besieged  employed  the  same 
engines  used  by  the  besiegers  for  the  discliarge  of  stones  and  darts, 
the  catapnltae  and  balistx.  The  walls  were  carefully  manned  on 
every  quarter  where  an  attack  was  meditated,  and  every  device 
employed  for  annoying  the  besiegers,  retarding  their  operations, 
and  preventing  the  approach  of  the  ram  to  the  walls.  The  gales, 
which  the  besiegers  generally  attempted  to  burn  down,  were  de- 
fended from  fire  by  covering  them  with  iron  plates  or  with  raw 
skins.  The  wall  above  the  gates  was  likewise  bored  with  per- 
pendicular openings  through  wliich  the  besieged  could  pour  water 
to  extinguish  them  if  set  on  fire.  In  the  inside  was  a  portcullis, 
suspended  by  iron  chains,  which,  when  a  small  body  of  the  enemy 
had  forced  the  way  through  the  gates,  the  besieged  could  suddenly 
let  down,  and  thus  despatch  them  when  they  were  separated  from 
the  rest  of  the  assailants. 

Such  were  the  most  ordinary  methods  employed  by  the  ancients 
n  the  attack  and  defence  of  fortified  towns.  I  speak  not  of  the 
Romans  alone  ;  for  they  borrowed  the  greater  part  of  their  know- 
ledge, in  this  branch  of  (he  military  art,  from  the  Greeks,  among 
whom  it  was  early  reduced  to  a  system.  If  we  comjiare  the  de- 
scription which  Josej)hus  has  given  of  the  siege  of  Juta|)at  by  the 
Romans  in  the  reign  of  Vespasian,  with  the  detail  given  »*  bv 
Thucydides  of  the  siege  of  Platea,  which  happened  about  fiOO 
years  before  that  period,  we  shall  find  the  same  method  both  of 
attack  and  defence.  They  continued  to  be  in  general  use  down 
to  modern  times  ;  till  the  invention  of  gunpowder  made  a  great 
chancre  in  almost  every  part  of  the  art  military. 

It  was  not  till  the  latter  a«;es  of  tlie  commnnwenllh,  that  navnl 
warfnr<;  was  at  all  practised  !)y  the  Romans.  Till  the  first  Punir 
war,  the  Romans  never  had  any  equipment  of  ships  for  the  pur- 
poses of  war.  A  Carthai^inian  galltjy  which  was  stranded  on  tl»« 
coast  of  Italy,  served  them,  as  formerly  observed,   for  a  model  : 


4C2  UNivERSAt.  iiisTony.  [nooK  iv 

and  it  is  snid,  with  a  very  modoralo  re;;ard  to  probability,  tliat,  in 
the  s|)ao(j  of  two  iiioiillis,  this  rcsoliile  and  aciive  pc'Oj)lc  crjni|)pod 
a  nc(3t  of  one  Inindrcd  galloys  of  five  banks  of  oars,  and  twenty  ol 
three  banks.  The  construction  of  these  vessels,  and  particularly 
the  disposition  of  the  different  ranges,  or  banks  of  oars,Jias  given 
occasion  to  much  speculation  among  the  moderns.  The  difliculty 
of  supposing  five  dilFereiit  lines  or  orders  of  rowers  dis|)osed  one 
above  another,  lias  occasioned  the  conjectures  of  some  authors, 
that  the  express  on  of  triremes  and  quinquercmes  meant  no  more 
than  that  there  were  in  some  galleys  three  men  to  an  oar,  and  in 
others  five.  But  the  expressions  of  the  ancient  writers  cleaily 
snow  that  there  were  different  ranks  which  sat  above  each  other. 
Nothing  can  be  more  ridiculous  than  the  importance  which  men 
of  learning  assume  to  themselves  from  that  parade  of  erudition, 
which  they  sometimes  choose  to  display  on  the  most  insignificant 
topics.  Meibomius  has  written  a  treatise  upon  the  structure  of 
the  ancient  triremis^  in  which,  from  a  variety  of  quotations  from 
ancient  authors,  and  critical  disquisitions  upon  the  meaning  of  some 
of  their  technical  phrases,  he  shows  that  Scaliger,  Salinasius,  and 
the  ablest  of  the  modern  critics,  were  totally  in  the  dark  as  to  the 
true  sense  of  those  authors ;  and  so  highly  docs  he  value  himself 
upon  his  discoveries,  that  he  dedicates  his  book,  Re!^ibiis,  Princi' 
pihus.)  Rebus-publicisque  JMaris  Interni  accolis ;  "To  alj  the  kings, 
princes,  and  states,  whose  territories  lie  upon  the  Mediterranean." 
His  treatise  again  has  been  answered  by  Opelius,  and  thus  the 
dispute  goes  on  to  the  length  of  folio  volumes  to  settle  this  impor- 
tant point,  whether  the  thranites^  one  order  of  rowers,  sat  up|)er- 
most,  and  the  thalamiles  undermost,  or  whether  these  last  were 
above,  and  the  former  below.* 


*  The  late  Lieutenant- General  Melville,  who  united  a  taste  for  antiquities  to 
jjreat  pnil'essional  knowledge,  has  some  curious  ideas  upon  this  subject  of  the 
structure  of  the  ancient  gallej's.  Me  conjectures  that  the  waist  part  of  the 
vessels  rose  obliquely  above  the  water's  edge,  with  an  angle  of  forty-five  de- 
grees or  near  it;  that  upon  the  inner  sides  of  this  waist  part,  the  seats  of  the 
rowers,  each  about  two  feet  in  loniftii,  were  iixed  horizontally  in  rows,  with 
no  mtro  space  between  each  seat  and  those  on  all  sides  of  it,  than  should  be 
f>und  necessary  for  the  free  niovenieiits  of  men  when  rowing  torrpiher.  The 
quinnmi,  or  chequer  order,  would  aft'ord  thi-s  advanl.-ige  in  the  iiighest  deffree 
possible;  and  in  consequence  of  tlie  combination  of  two  obliquities,  those  in- 
conveniences, wiiich,  according  to  the  common  idea  of  the  reffulution  of  such 
galleys,  must  have  attended  tiie  disposition  of  so  great  a  number  of  rowers,  are 
entirely  removed.  In  1771?,  the  General  caused  the  fifth  part  of  the  waist  of  a 
nuinqitcrcinis  to  be  erected  in  the  back  yard  of  his  house,  in  Great  Pulteney 
Street.  This  model  contained  with  sufTicient  ease,  in  a  very  smill  place,  thirty 
rowers  in  five  tiers  of  si.^  men  in  each  lens'tliwavs,  making  one-fifth  part  of  the 
rowers  on  each  side  of  a  quinquercmis,  according  to  I\ilybius,  who  assiirns  three 
hundred  fur  the  whole  complement,  besides  one  hundred  and  twentv  fighting 
men.  This  construction,  the  advantages  of  which  appeared  evident  to  those 
who  exammed  it,  serves  to  explain  many  difficult  passatjes  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  writers  concerning  naval  matters.  The  Generals  discovery  is  con- 
firmed by  ancient  monuments.  The  collection  at  I'orlici  contains  ancient 
paintings  of  several   galleys,  one  or   two   of  which,  by  representing  tlie    stern 


CH.   VI. J  ANCIENT     VESSELS    OF    WAR.  469 

Besides  the  longa  naves,  or  ships  of  war,  such  as  ihosc  we  have 
nienlioiied,  the  Romans  made  use  of  small  vessels  called  tihurnir(r, 
which  were  serviccahle  dinini;  a  naval  engai^einent  in  carrying  the 
general's  or  admiral's  orders  Ironi  one  part  of  the  squadron  to  the 
other.  They  were  so  called  from  the  Liburni,  a  people  of  lllvria, 
who  followed  a  piratical  way  of  life,  and  used  small,  quick-sailiiie 
vessels.  In  a  naval  engagement  the  general  himself,  in  one  of 
these  liburniccB,  was  wont  to  sail  through  the  fleet,  and  give  his 
caders  for  the  dispositions  and  motions  of  the  squadron. 

In  their  naval  engagements  the  ancients  had  no  means  of  assail, 
.ng  each  otiier  at  a  distance  but  with  the  javelin  ;  nor  had  they 
any  contrivance  for  disabling  the  vessels  of  the  enemy,  unless  in 
some  of  their  largest  shijjs,  which  were  constructed  with  towers 
on  their  stern,  from  which  liiey  could  use  the  baiista  or  caiapulta. 
The  corvxiSy  or  grappling  machine,  used  by  the  Romans,  served  to 
fasten  the  ships  to  each  odier  during  action,  while  the  men  were 
engaged  with  the  sword  and  bui;kler  or  with  spears.  Under  the 
emperors  die  Romans  maintained  ihiir  distant  concpiests  not  only 
by  their  arms  but  by  their  Heels,  which  were  dis|)osed  in  all  the 
quarters  of  the  empire,  and  preserved  a  fixed  station,  as  did  the 
legions.* 


e 


CHAPTER   VI. 


Reflections  arising  from   a  vit-w  of  llie  Roman  Hislnry  during  the 
Cotiimonwealth, 

In  the  view  which  I  have  cndenvorcd  to  give  of  the  rise  and  the 
progress  of  the  Roman  republic,  and  of  the  slates  of  (Jrerc 
previously,  I  have  been  less  attentive  through  the  whole  to  i 
minute   and    scrupulous    detail  of  events,   than   studious    to    inaik 


part,  show  holli  (lip  ol)lirinity  of  the  niclm,  nnil  the  rowi  of  onm  rfnrhinjj  o  tlx» 
wiitor ;  and  many  nnricnl  Imji^ii  n'lu-vim  hIiow  iIh- oar*  »»iiiii'f  rhniniT  wiw 
from  lln<  «idi'8.     Sec  (jillii'8'  llisloryof  Greece,  cap.  .'> 

*  Aii<nisliiH  Ht.itionod  Iw"  poninnent  fli'etn  at  Ravenna. . .11  tJic  A<ir;a:if-,  ^nrt 
nt  ,Misi  iiiiiii.  in  tin-  Iliy  "f  .Na|il<'i«,  lo  romimnd  thr  Ivv"  »>-n*,  vnrU  ».|iM.!r.»n 
containmir  sivcral  lliuunaiid  nmrMU!*.  Tli>-y  ri.nMNlrd  rliiillv  of  ilio  lijjlilrr 
Vfssi'ls  ca  UmI  Lihiirninr.  A  vi-ry  c  .nsi.lcrnlilf  nriiianirnl  wa*  lik«'wi»r  •lali<»nr«l 
nt  rrcjii-i.  on  lli<>  cnn.sl  of  I'mvenre,  and  another  wan  appointed  lo  fu-ird  Ilie 
Kuxinc.  T>>  lliis.'  iii.Ty  lie  mldcd  lli<«  flf<'t  wliirli  pn-iwrved  llie  roinniuniratioB 
between  (iiinl  iitid  Unlain,  and  a  numl»cr  of  Vi-ijels  comUnlly  mamUined  o« 
the  Rliiiie  and   Uunube. 


4G I  u.Nivr.RSAJ.  msToiiv.  [hook  iv 

those  circumslanrcs  ulilcli  show  the  spirit  and  gruiiiis  of  those 
rornarkahh;  nalinns,  and  ilkislrale  tliosc  great  moral  and  political 
truths  which  it  is  the  most  valuable  province  of  history  to  point 
out  and  infulcate. 

To  considor  history  only  as  a  magazine  of  facts,  arranged  in  the 
order  of  ihcir  dates,  is  nothing  more  than  the  indiilgoncc  of  a  vain 
and  childish  curiosity  ;  a  study  which  tends  to  no  valuable  or  useful 
purpose.  The  object  of  the  study  of  history  is  one  of  the  noblest 
of  the  pursuits  of  man.  It  is  to  furnish  the  mind  with  the  know- 
ledge of  that  great  art  on  which  depends  the  existence,  the  pre- 
;<ervation,  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  states  and  empires. 

That  the  connection  of  politics  with  morality  is  inseparable,  the 
smallest  acquaintance  with  history  is  sufficient  to  show. 

No  naiioii  has  afforded  a  more  striking  example,  than  the  Ro- 
mans have  done,  of  the  necessity  of  good  morals  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  political  liberty  and  the  happiness  of  the  people.  This  is 
a  doctrine  of  so  much  importance,  that  it  cannot  be  too  seriously 
considered  nor  attended  to.  Unlike,  in  this  respect,  to  many 
other  political  truths  which  are  interesting  only  to  statesmen,  and 
ihose  who  conduct  the  machine  of  government,  this  truth  is  of 
importance  to  be  known  and  considered  by  every  single  individual 
of  the  community  ;  because  the  error  or  fault  is  in  the  conduct  of 
indviduah,  and  can  only  be  amended  by  a  conviction  brought 
home  to  the  mind  of  every  private  man,  that  the  reformation  must 
be  begun  by  his   own  virtuous  and  patriotic  endeavors. 

It  will,  therefore,  be  no  unprofitable  task  if  I  shall  endeavor, 
from  the  history  of  the  Roman  republic,  and  likewise  from  that  of 
the  states  of  Greece,  which  were  before  under  our  consideration, 
to  throw  together  in  one  view  such  striking  facts  as  tend  to  exem- 
plify and  illustrate  this  great  and  useful  lesson,  of  which  the  appli- 
cation is  not  confined  to  any  age  or  country,  but  is  equally  suited 
to  the  subject  of  a  monarchy y  and  of  a  republic;  equally  important 
to  the  modern  Briton,  as  it  was  to  the  ancient  Greek  or  Roman. 
For  'n  truth,  no  principle  is  more  false  or  more  pernicious  than 
that  assumed  by  some  political  writers,  that  virtue  is  essen'.ialhj 
necessary  to  republics  alone.  Virtue  is  necessary,  and  indispen- 
sably necessary,  to  the  existence  of  every  government,  whatever 
lie  Its  form  ;  and  no  human  institution  where  men  are  assembled 
together  to  act  in  concert,  however  limited  be  their  numbers,  or 
however  extensive,  however  wise  may  be  their  governors,  how- 
ever excellent  their  laws,  can  possess  any  measure  of  duration 
without  that  powerful  cement,  virtue  in  the  principles  and  morals 
of  the  people.  Quid  leges  sine  moribus  vance  profciunt,  is  a 
sentiment  equally  applicable  to  all  governments  whatever. 

The  love  of  liberty,  or  the  passion  for  national  freedom,  is  a 
noble,  a  disinterested,  and  a  virtuous  feeling.  Where  this  feeling 
is  found  to  prevail  in  any  great  degree,  it  is  a  proof  that  the  man- 
•lers    of  that  community  are  yet  pure  and  unadulterated  ;    for  cor- 


Cfl.    VI.]  RUMA.V    CO>mO\\VEAI.T/I.  465 

ruption  of  inanners  infallibly  extinguishes  ihe  patriolic  spirit.  In 
a  nation  confessedly  corrupted,  there  is  dflen  found  a  prevaihiig 
cry  for  liberty^  which  is  heard  the  loudest  among  the  most  pro- 
fligate of  the  community;  but  let  us  carefully  disiingui>h  that 
spirit  from  virtuous  patriotism.  Let  us  examine  the  morals,  the 
private  manners  of  the  demagogue  who  prearhes  forth  the  love  of 
liberty;  remark  the  character  and  examine  the  lives  of  those  who 
listen  with  the  greatest  avidity  to  his  harangues,  and  re-echo  hi? 
vociferations — and  let  this  be  our  criterion  to  judge  of  the  principle 
which  actuates  them.*  The  aversion  to  restraint  assumes  the 
same  external  appearance  with  the  love  of  Jibt-riy;  but  this  crite- 
rion will  enable  us  to  di^linguisii  the  reality  from  the  rounterfei 
In  fact  iho  spirit  of  liberty  and  a  general  corruption  of  manners  are 
so  totally  adverse  and  repugnant  to  each  c'li'cr,  that  it  is  utterly 
impossible  they  should  have  even  the  most  transitory  existence  in 
the  same  age  and  nation.  When  Thrasybulus  delivered  Athens 
from  the  thirty  tyrants,  liberty  came  too  late;  the  inanners  of  the 
Athenians  were  irretrievably  corrupted;  licentiousness,  avarire, 
and  debauchery  had  induced  a  mortal  disease.  Wlien  Antigonus 
and  the  Achaean  states  restored  liberty  to  the  Spartan<,  they  could 
not  enjoy  or  preserve  it;  the  spirit  of  liberty  was  utterly  extinct, 
for  they  w?re  a  corrupted  people.  The  liberiy  of  Koine  couhi 
not  be  recovered  by  the  death  of  Cassar;  it  had  gone  for  ever  with 
her  virtuous  manners. 

On  the  other  hand,  while  virtue  remains  in  the  manners  of  the 
people,  no  national  misfortune  is  irretrievable,  nor  any  political 
situation  so  desperate,  that  hope  may  not  remain  for  a  favorable 
change.  If  the  morals  of  the  people  be  entire,  the  spirit  of 
patriotism  pervading  the  ranks  of  the  state  will  excite  to  such  ex- 
ertions as  may  soon  recover  the  national  honor.  Of  this  truth  the 
Roman  stale  afforded  at  one  time  a  most  striking  example.  \Vhen 
Hannibal  was  carrying  every  thing  before  him  in  Italy,  when  the 
Roman  name  was  sunk  so  low  that  the  allies  of  the  republic  were 
daily  dro|)ping  off,  and  the  Italian  stales  seemed  to  siand  aloof, 
and  leave  her  to  her  fate,  there  was  in  the  manners  of  the  people, 
and  in  that  patriotic  ardor  which  can  only  exi>t  in  an  uncorrnpltMl 
age.  a  spirit  of  reconvalesccnce  which  speedily  operated  a  most 
wonderful  change  of  fortune.  Of  all  the  allied  .states,  Micro,  king 
of  Syracuse,  manifestcMl  the  greatest  political  foresight.  When 
solicited  to  forsake  the  Romans  in  this  hour  of  their  adversity,  he 
stood  firm  to  the  alliance.  He  saw,  that,  although  ^unk  under  the 
pressure  of  temporary  misfortune,   patriotism  \  js   still  alive  and 


'  "  Thnt  innn,'    snys  iT-schin**!!, "  who  i«  nn  iinnnlnral  f«lhrr,  •dJ  ■  hitrr  ol 

his  own  blond,  ran  novcr  bi-  n  vviTthy  Ii'mlcr  "f  ll""  p<''>i>lo  ;  tin-  »"iil  thai  it 
inaonsilili-  lo  tin-  li-ndcrcsl  iloim-Hlic  rfl«ll<>n»,  ran  nrvrr  fi-rl  tli«»  in-.n-  g»T>rf»l 
bond  1)1"  |>;itiinlin  atr»<  lion  ;  hf  u  ho  in  priralr  life  ia  vicioua,  c«n  twtct  I*  ti* 
luoiis  in  Iho  concerns  of  the  public." 

VOL.    I.  59 


-!«)()  UNIVERSAL    msTOKV.  [liOOK    IV 

the  constitution  of  the  republic  was  still  sound;  and  Ua  riglitiy 
concluded  iliat  she  would  recover  her  strength  and  splendor.  So 
likewise  at  Cartilage,  when  the  intelligence  arrived  of  the  great 
victory  gained  over  the  Romans  at  Canna;; — the  most  sanguine 
and  shortsighted  manifested  the  highest  exultation,  and  concluded 
that  Rome  for  certain  was  in  the  possession  of  Hannibal,  et  quod 
actum  eral  de  republicd  Romand:  but  the  wiser  sort  judged  far 
otherwise;  and,  hearing  of  those  intrepid  resolutions  of  the  senate 
upon  that  great  calamity,  sagaciously  foresaw  that  this  misfortune 
would  but  rouse  to  a  more  desperate  resistance,  and  accumulate 
the  whole  strength  of  the  Romans,  of  which  hitherto  there  had 
been  only  j)ariial  exertions.  The  lapse  of  a  hundred  and  forty 
years,  however,  made  a  prodigious  change  in  the  Roman  charac- 
ter. In  the  time  of  JNIarius  and  Sylla,  a  defeat  like  Cannae  would 
have  been  decisive  of  the  fate  of  Rome.  Had  Hiero  lived  in  the 
time  of  the  Second  Triumvirate,  he  would  have  abandoned  the 
republic  to  her  fate,  which  he  n)ust  have  seen  to  be  inevitable. 

The  force  of  the  torrent  of  corruption  in  the  degeneracy  of  a 
nation  is  never  so  sensibly  perceived,  so  strongly  felt,  as  when  one 
man  of  uncommon  virtue  makes  a  signal  endeavor  to  oppose  it. 
If  his  example,  though  ineffectual  to  excite  a  general  imitation,  is 
yet  strong  enough  to  attract  applause,  there  is  still  some  faint  hope 
that  that  nation  or  people  is  not  beyond  the  possibility  of  recovery. 
Thus,  when,  after  the  defeat  of  Antiochus,  and  the  plunder  of  his 
kingdom,  the  virtuous  Scipio  withstood  every  temptation  to  ac- 
cumulate wealth,  —  temptations  judged  so  powerful,  that  it  was 
thought  impossible  he  should  have  resisted  tl;em,  and  he  under- 
went on  that  ground  a  calumnious  prosecution, — the  conduct  of 
that  great  man  on  this  occasion  excited  universal  admiration;  a 
proof  that,  amidst  great  corruption,  public  virtue  was  not  yet  ex- 
tiKct.  In  that  age,  a  few  such  men  as  Scipio  might  have  postponed 
the  approaching  ruin  of  their  country.  But  when  things  have 
once  proceeded  to  that  depth  of  degeneracy,  that  the  example  of 
one  virtuous  man  strenuously  resisting  the  torrent  cannot  command 
even  a  sterile  applause,  but  is  received  with  scorn  and  contempt, 
then  is  that  nation  gone  beyond  all  hopes,  and  no  human  power 
can  prevent  its  hastening  to  ruin.  A  very  few  years  from  the  time 
of  the  last  mentioned  example  had  produced  this  fatal  difference 
in  the  manners  of  the  Romans.  When  the  first  triumvirate, 
Pompey,  Caesar,  and  Crassus,  had  gone  such  lengths  towards  the 
destruction  of  the  Roman  liberty,  and  had  so  debauched  the  man- 
ners of  the  people,  that  candidates  for  offices,  instead  of  depending 
on  their  merits  or  services,  openly  bought  the  suffrages  of  the 
people,  and,  improving  in  corruption,  instead  of  purchasing  single 
votes,  went  directly  to  the  triumviri  and  paid  down  the  ready 
money;  when  all  was  going  headlong  to  perdition,  the  younger 
Cato  attempted  to  impose  some  check  upon  this  torrent  of  wick- 
edness.     What  was    the  consequence? — He    only    procured    to 


CH.    VI.]  ROMAN     COMMONWEALTH.  4G7 

himself  the  contempt  and  hatred  of  both  rich  and  poor,  ilie  funner 
detesting  the  man  who  fori)ade  iheni  to  l)uy  the  liberty  of  their 
country,  and  the  latter  execrating  him  who  would  have  prevented 
them  from  making  money  by  the  sale  of  it. 

AVheihcr  it  was  the  intercourse  with  the  Carthaginians,  whose 
want  of  probity  and  of  national  faith  had  passed  into  a  proverb;  or 
whether  it  was  tiie  internal  corruption  of  the  manners  of  the  Ro- 
mans themselves,  a  people  now  flushed  with  the  arrogance  that 
attends  repeated  conquests — it  is  not  easy  to  determine  ;  but  it  is 
certain  that  the  national  character  of  the  Romans  seems  to  have 
undergone  its  most  remarkable  change  for  the  worse,  from  the 
lime  of  the  destruction  of  their  rival,  Carthage.  The  last  Punic 
war  itself  was  prompted,  as  we  have  seen,  by  a  most  mean,  un- 
generous, and  dastardly  spirit  in  the  Romans.  But  after  the  fall 
of  Carthage,  some  of  the  public  measures  became  stained  with 
the  most  horrible  perfidy.  Their  conduct  to  Viriathus,  a  Spanish 
chief,  of  whom  they  first  purchased  an  ignominious  peace,  and 
afterwards  broke  it  by  hiring  assassins  to  murder  him  ;  and  their 
shameful  treachery  and  cruelty  to  the  people  of  Numantia,  whom 
they  basely  attacked,  murdered,  and  exterminated,  while  they 
thought  themselves  safe  under  the  sanction  of  a  most  solemn 
treaty, — these  are  instances  marking  so  total  a  depravation  of  na- 
tional cliaracter,  as  could  be  followed  by  nothing  else  but  the  ruin 
of  the  state  that  could  furnish  them.  Accordingly,  we  find  similar 
instances  following  each  other  in  the  quickest  succession,  from  this 
time  down  to  the  entire  subversion  of  the  commonwealth. 

When  the  passion  of  avarice  had,  as  at  this  time,  pervaded  all  the 
ranks  of  the  state,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  the  public  measures 
should  be  in  the  greatest  degree  mean  and  disgraceful.  The 
ambition  of  conquest  was  now  little  else  than  the  desire  of  rapine 
and  plunder.  If  the  allies  of  the  state  were  opulent,  the  Romans 
considered  their  wealth  as  a  siiiricient  reason  for  dissolving  all 
treaties  between  them,  and  holdin:;  them  as  a  lawful  object  of 
conquest.  Thus  the  kingdoms  of  Nnmidia,  of  Pcri^amus,  of  Cap- 
padocia,  of  Bithynia,  separate  sovereignties  bound  to  the  allegiance 
of  the  Romans  by  the  most  solemn  treaties,  were  invaded  as  if 
they  had  been  ancient  and  natural  enemies,  and  reduced  to  the 
contlition  of  conquered  provinces.  The  senate  made  a  kind  of 
traffic  of  thrones  and  governments,  selling  them  openly  to  the 
highest  bidder. 

It  is  curious,  in  this  state  of  the  Roman  manners,  to  observe  the 
pretences  sometimes  alle<;ed  for  goinc;  to  war,  when  any  country 
ofiered  a  tempting  object  to  their  avidity  and  rapaciousness. 

Manlius,  the  consul,  undertook  an  expedition  against  the  Gallo- 
Grecians  or  Gallatians,  a  peo|)le  of  Asia  Minor.  It  was  alleged 
that  the  war  was  unjust,  for  they  had  given  the  Romans  no  sort 
of  provocation.  But  the  general  urged  in  excuse,  that  they  were 
a  wicked  and  profligate  peopli-,  and  that  some  of  their  ancestors, 


1GB  UNI  VK  I!  SAT.    mSTOllV.  '^BOOK    IV 

a  few  rc'iitnrius  h'Ton-,  Iiad  j)liin(lprctl  tin;  tiMiipIo  of  Dol|,lii.  The 
a|)()l()<;y  was  ailuiiltod,  and  Maiiliiis  was  decreed  the  lionor  of  a 
triumph  for  having  avenged  this  liorrihlc  saerilegc.  Justin,  the 
historian,  informs  us  of  a  similar  instance.  Tlic  Romans  engaging 
along  with  the  Acarnanians,  against  the  people  of  ilitolia,  had  no 
other  excuse  to  allege  for  their  interference  in  this  quarrel,  than 
that  the  Acarnanians  had  performed  a  signal  act  of  friendship  to 
their  ancestors  about  a  thousand  years  before — which  was,  that  they 
Lad  joined  the  other  Grecian  states  in  sending  troops  to  the  siege 
of  troy  ! 

In  the  last  ages  of  the  commonwealth,  the  generals  who  com- 
manded in  those  military  expeditions,  from  a  selfish  and  ambitious 
policy,  studied  to  increase  this  prevailing  depravity.  They  allow- 
ed their  soldiers  to  plunder  with  impunity,  and  countenanced  f:very 
species  of  dissoluteness  of  manners,  in  order  to  gain  the  affection 
of  the  troops.  "Lucius  Sylla,"  says  Sallust,  "that  he  might 
gain  the  attachment  of  his  army,  entirely  corrupted  their  ancient 
simplicity  of  manners."  It  was  under  him,  in  his  Asiatic  expedi- 
tions, that  the  RoiDan  soldiers  first  became  addicted  to  debauchery 
and  drinking.  There  also  they  learned  an  affectation  of  taste  for 
paintings  and  for  statues  ;  a  taste  which  In  them  led  to  private  theft, 
to  public  rapine,  and  even  to  sacrilege.  The  vanquished  nations 
had  nothing  to  expect  from  such  conquerors,  but  to  be  stripped 
and  plundered  of  all  they  possessed. 

The  shocking  corruption  of  which  Jugnrtha  made  the  experiment 
upon  all  the  ranks  of  the  state — the  facility  which  he  found  in 
screening  himself  from  the  punishment  of  his  atrocious  crimes,  first 
by  bribing  the  Roman  senate,  and  afterwards  by  corrupting  the  gen- 
erals who  were  sent  against  him — are  scarcely  credible  to  those 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  consider  the  Romans,  in  the  early 
times  of  the  republic,  as  an  heroic,  a  free,  and  a  virtuous  people. 
But  the  Romans  were  now  weary  of  calm  and  rational  happiness  ; 
their  virtues  were  an  incumbrance  ;  and  they  saw  no  value  in  their 
liberty,  but  in  so  far  as  they  could  make  money  by  the  sale  of  it. 
Some  few,  who  yet  possessed  a  remnant  of  virtue,  either  from 
motives  of  personal  safety,  or  perhaps  ashamed  to  live  in  surh 
society,  voluntarily  banished  themselves  from  their  country.  The 
scenes  that  followed  under  Sylla,  Cinna,  and  the  two  triumvirates, 
were  the  last  struggles  which  terminate  a  violent  and  mortal  dis- 
ease. 

That  the  extinction  of  the  liberties  of  the  Roman  people,  and 
the  downfall  of  the  conmionwealth,  w-ere  owing  to  the  corruption 
of  the  Roman  manners,  there  cannot  be  the  smallest  doubt  ;  nor 
is  it  difiicult  to  point  out  in  a  few  words  the  causes  of  that  corrup- 
tion. The  extent  of  the  Roman  dominions  tow'ards  the  end  of 
the  republic  proved  fatal  to  its  virtues.  While  confined  within  i..e 
bounds  of  Italy,  every  Roman  soldier,  accustomed  to  a  life  oi 
Hardship,  of  frugality  and  of  industry,  placed  his  chief  happiness 


CH.    VI.]  ROMAN    CO.MMONWEALTIl.  46:i 

in  contributing  in  war  to  the  preservation  of  liis  countr)",  and  in 
peace  to  the  maintenance  of  his  family  by  honest  labor.  A  state 
of  this  kind,  which  knows  no  intervals  of  case  or  of  indolence,  is 
a  certain  preservative  of  good  morals,  and  a  sure  antidote  against 
every  species  of  corruption.  But  the  conquest  of  Italy  paved  the 
way  for  the  reduction  of  foreign  nations;  for  an  immense  acquisi- 
tion of  territory — a  flood  of  wealth — and  an  acquaintance  \>ith  the 
manners,  the  luxuries,  and  the  vices  of  the  nations  whom  they 
subdued.  The  Roman  generals,  instead  of  returning  as  formerly, 
after  a  successful  war,  to  the  labors  of  the  field,  the  occupations  of 
industry,  and  a  life  of  temi)erance  and  frugality,  were  now  tlie 
governors  of  kingdoms  and  of  provinces.  In  these  they  lived 
with  the  splendor  of  sovereign  princes,  and  reluming  after  the  pe- 
riod of  their  command,  to  Rome,  brought  with  them  immense 
treasures,  which  they  had  accumulated  by  every  species  of  rapine 
and  oppression.  Their  importance  at  home  was  now  signalized 
bv  a  desire  of  obtaining  dominion  over  their  country  similar  to 
that  which  they  had  exercised  in  their  province.  Utterly  iinpa- 
tient  of  the  restraints  of  a  subject,  they  could  be  satisfied  with 
nothing  less  than  sovereignty.  The  armies  they  had  commanded 
abroad,  debauched  by  the  plunder  of  kingdoms,  and  attached  by 
selfish  interest  to  the  men  who  had  countenanced  and  intlulged 
them  in  rapine,  were  completely  disposed  to  support  them  in  all 
their  schemes  of  ambition.  It  was  now  only  necessary  to  secure 
the  favor  of  the  peojjle  of  Rome,  which  the  increasing  taste  for 
luxury  presented  an  easy  method  of  obtaining.  Games  and  shows 
were  exhibited  at  the  most  enormous  expense,  and  festivals  pre- 
pared for  the  populace,  with  every  refinement  of  luxurious  mag- 
nificence; and  the  Roman  people,  in  the  emphatic  words  of  Ju- 
venal, . 

■  "  dms  lanluin  tea  anxius  oplat, 


I'aneiii  et  Circenscs," 

(that  is,  anxious  only  for  food  and  games,)  easil)  abandoned  llieir 
liberty  to  the  nian  who  went  the  farthest  in  indulging  them  in  their 
sensual  gratifications.  Rivals  in  the  same  path  of  ambition  divid- 
ed this  worthless  populace  into  parties.  "  The  public  assemblies," 
ns  M.  Moni.esqiiieii  lias  well  remarked,  "were  now  so  many  con- 
spiracies against  the  state,  and  a  tumultuous  crowd  of  sedition* 
wretches  were  dignified  with  the  title  of  comitia.  The  authority 
of  the  peo|)le  and  their  laws  were,  in  these  times  of  universal  an- 
archy, no  more  than  a  chimera."  With  a  people  thus  fated  to 
destruction,  ni  a  government  thus  irretrievably  destroyed  by  the 
decay  of  those  springs  which  once  supported  it,  it  was  a  matter 
of  very  liltle  consequence  by  tlic  hands  of  wliat  particular  individ- 
uals it'  was  finally  extinguished.  We  have  seen  who  were  the 
active  instruments  in  that  dissolution,  and  the  measures  by  whicn 
they  accomplished  it,  and  it  is  needles*  here  to  recapitulate  ihcin 


470  UNIVEKSAL    HISTORV.  [bOOK   IV 

l''r()iii  a  coiisiileratioii  of  the  liso  and  fall  of  (lie  states  of  Greece 
and  lioiiii!,  a  jioliiical  (jiieslioii  lias  arisLMi,  which  in  this  place  it  is 
of  some  importance  to  examine,  and  which  the  preceding  ohserva- 
tions,  I  helieve,  may,  in  a  great  measure,  assist  us  in  solving. 

Tliere  is  no  maxiii)  more  common  among  the  political  writers, 
nor  any  which  is  generally  received  with  less  hesitation,  than  this, 
that  the  constitution  of  every  empire,  like  that  of  the  human  body, 
has  necessarily  its  successive  periods  of  growth,  maturity,  decline, 
and  extinction.  The  fate  of  all  the  ancient  nations  whose  annals 
are  recorded  in  history  has  led  to  the  adopting  of  this  as  an  axiom, 
for  which,  independent  of  experience,  it  is  not  very  easy  to  assign 
a  reasonable  foundation. 

All  conclusions  from  analogy  should  be  cautiously  weighed. 
The  mind  of  man,  j)leasing  itself  with  its  own  sagacity  in  discover- 
ing relations  not  obvious  to  a  common  observer,  has  a  great  pro- 
pensity, in  comparing  facts,  to  reduce  them  to  general  laws  ;  and 
from  the  coincidence  and  even  resemblance  of  a  few  striking  par- 
ticulars, is  apt  very  hastily  to  conclude  that  a  perfect  analogy 
holds  between  them.  This  mode  of  reasoning  is  extremely  falla- 
cious, and  is  never  more  to  be  suspected  than  when  an  analogy  is 
attempted  to  be  drawn  from  physical  trudis  to  moral  ones. 

The  human  body,  we  know,  contains  within  itself  the  princi- 
ples of  decay.  It  undergoes  a  perpetual  change  from  time.  The 
bodily  organs,  at  first  weak  and  imperfect,  attain  gradually  to  thei. 
perfect  strength.  At  this  period  they  cannot  be  arrested,  but  are 
subject  to  a  decline  equally  perceptible  with  their  progress  to  per- 
fection. But  this  is  not  the  case  with  the  body  politic.  The 
springs  of  its  life  do  not  necessarily  undergo  a  perpetual  change 
from  time  ;  nor  is  it  subject  to  the  influence  of  any  principle  of 
corruption  wiiich  may  not  be  checked  and  even  eradicated  by 
wholesome  laws.  "  If,"  says  the  eloquent  Rousseau,  "  Sparta 
and  Rome  have  gone  to  destruction,  what  government  or  consti- 
tution can  hope  for  perpetuity.''  "  True,  it  may  be  answered, 
Sparta  and  Rome  have  gone  to  destruction ;  but  was  this  the  efl'ect 
of  a  law  of  nature,  or  does  it  follow  that  since  these  two  states, 
excellent  indeed  in  many  respects  in  their  constitution,  are  now 
extinct,  all  others  must  exhibit  a  similar  progress  .''  From  the 
history  of  ancient  nations,  it  is  not  difficult  for  a  reader  of  discern- 
ment to  discover  and  point  out  the  principle  of  corruption  which 
has  led  to  their  dissolution  ;  and  a  good  politician  can  see  what 
remedy  could  have  been  effectual  to  check  or  to  eradicate  the 
evil.  Sparta  enjoyed  a  longer  period  of  prosperous  duration  than 
any  other  state  of  antiquity.  So  long  as  her  original  constitution 
remained  inviolate,  which  was  for  the  period  of  several  centuries, 
the  Lacedccmonians  were  a  virtuous,  a  happy,  and  a  respectable 
people.  Frugality,  we  know,  was  the  soul  of  Lycurgus's  estab- 
lishment. The  luxurious  disposition  of  a  single  citizen  introduced 
:he  po"son  of  corruption.      Lysander,  whose  military  talents  raised 


CH.   VI  J  nOMA.V    COMMO.WVKAI.TIl.  47. 

)iis  country  to  a  superiority  over  all  the  Grecian  stales,  sent  home, 
after  the  conquest  of  Atiiens,  the  wealth  of  that  luxurious  rrpuhlir 
to  LacecKTCMion.  It  was  debated  in  the  senate  whetlier  it  should 
be  received  :  the  best  and  wisest  of  that  order,  considered  it  as  a 
most  dangerous  breach  of  the  institutions  of  their  legislator;  but 
others  were  dazzled  with  the  lustre  of  that  gold,  with  which  they 
were,  till  now,  unacquainted,  and  the  influence  of  Lysandcr  pre- 
vailed for  its  reception.  It  was  decreed  to  receive  the  money  for 
the  use  of  the  state,  while  it  was  at  the  same  time  declared  a 
capital  crime  for  any  of  it  to  be  found  in  the  possession  of  a  |)rivate 
citizen — a  weak  resolution,  which  in  etlect  was  consecrating,  and 
making  respertable  in  the  eyes  of  the  citizens,  that  very  thing  of 
which  it  was  necessary  to  forbid  them  to  aspire  at  the  possession. 

Thus  did  corruption  begin  its  first  attack  upon  the  constitution 
of  Lycurgus.  But  was  this  corruption  a  necessary  or  an  unavoid- 
able evil.''  Was  Sparta  come  to  that  period,  when  a  Lysandcr 
must  of  necessity  have  arisen,  whose  (lis|)osition  was  adverse  to 
the  spirit  of  her  constitution,  and  whose  innuonce  was  sufficiently 
powerful  to  effect  that  breach  of  her  fundamental  laws?  A  single 
voice  in  the  senate,  perhaps,  decided  the  fate  of  that  illustrious 
commonwealth.  Had  there  been  one  other  virtuous  man,  whose 
negative  would  have  caused  the  rejection  of  that  pernicious  mea- 
sure, Sparta  might  have  continued  to  exist  for  ages,  frugal,  warlike, 
virtuous,  and  uncorrupted.  Or  again,  even  supposing  corruption 
once  introduced,  was  it  iriterly  impossible  to  find  a  remedy  for  the 
disease.'  Might  not  a  second  Lycurgus  have  arisen,  who  could 
check  that  evil  in  its  infancy  against  which  the  first  was  able  so 
well  to  guard  .'^ 

The  beginning  of  the  corruption  of  the  Roman  state,  we  have 
seen,  may  be  dated  from  the  time  that  the  territory  was  extended 
beyond  the  bounds  of  Italy.  The  fatal  effects  of  enlarging  the 
empire  were  certainly  not  foreseen;  or  we  must  conclude  that  the 
same  parties,  who  were  so  jealous  of  the  smallest  attacks  upon  tne 
liberty  of  the  people,  would  have  been  doubly  anxious  to  have 
guarded  against  measures  which  led,  though  remotely,  to  the  ex- 
tinction of  all  liberty  and  the  overthrow  of  the  constitutiftn;  and 
had  the  effect  of  these  measures  been  foreseen,  a  few  wise  and 
virtuous  politicians  might  have  prevcntrd  this  b^ing  adopt«'d.  This, 
at  least,  we  may  say,  that  if,  by  a  fundamental  law  of  the  stale,  ihe 
Roman  empire  had  been  confined  to  Italy,  and  it  had  been  a  capital 
crime  for  any  Roman  citizen  to  have  proposed  to  carry  the  arms 
of  the  republic  beyond  the  limits  of  that  countr)',  the  republic 
mi^ht  have  preserved  its  constitution  inviolate  for  many  ages  be- 
yond the  period  of  its  actual  duration. 

Several  ingenious  men  have  exercised  their  talents  in  framine; 
the  plan  of  such  a  political  constitution  as  should  best  promote  tho 
happiness  of  the  citizens,  while  it  possessed  the  greatest  possibirt 
stability.     We  lay  out  of  the  question  such   ideal  governments  at 


47.J  UNIVKKSAL  HISTOIIT.  [bOOK   IV 

ilic  republic  of  Plato,  the  Utopia  of  More,  and  some  modern 
iheories  no  less  cliiincrieal,  because  llicy  proceed  upon  llie  basis 
of  ameiuling  the  nature  of  man,  and  eradicating  all  liis  evil  passions. 
The  systems  of  Harrington,  however,  in  his  "  Oceana,"  and  of 
Mr.  Hume  in  his  "  Idea  of  a  perfect  Commonwealth,"  have  been 
considered  as  more  worthy  of  the  attention  of  mankind,  as  resting 
upon  the  basis  of  human  nature  such  as  it  is,  and  widiout  assuming 
for  their  foundation  any  wonderful  improvement  either  of  the  moral 
or  intellectual  nature  of  our  species.  Yet  in  so  far  as  either  of 
these  systems  has  been  partially  introduced  into  practice,  we  have 
very  little  reason  to  subscribe  to  any  eulogium  upon  their  merits. 
Harrington,  who  wrote  his  ^'  Oceana,"  during  a  period  of  the  com- 
monwealth of  England,  was  so  intoxicated  with  that  newly  erected 
system  of  government,  as  agreeing  in  many  respects  with  his  own 
theory,  that  he  boldly  ventured  to  pronounce  it  impossible  that 
monarchy  should  ever  be  re-established  in  England.  Yet  his  book 
was  scarcely  published,  when  the  nation,  weary  to  death  of  an  ex- 
periment which,  under  the  mask  of  freedom,  had  loaded  them  with 
tenfold  tyranny,  unanimously  recurred  to  their  ancient  monaichical 
constitution. 

With  respect  to  Mr.  Hume's  "Idea  of  a  perfect  Commonwealth," 
It  were,  perhaps,  not  difficult  to  show  that,  instead  of  simplifying 
the  machine  of  government,  it  renders  it  so  complicated,  that  it 
would  be  iiTipossible  for  it  to  proceed  either  with  that  regularity 
or  despatch  which  is  often  most  essential  to  the  mass  of  public 
measures.  If,  for  example,  in  Mr.  Hume's  senate  of  one  hundred 
members,  there  should  be  only  ten  dissentient  voices  to  the  passing 
of  a  law,  that  law  is  to  be  sent  back  to  be  debated  and  canvassed 
by  no  less  than  11,000  county  representatives.  In  the  same 
manner,  if  there  should  be  but  five  of  the  one  hundred  senators 
who  approve  of  a  law,  wdiile  ninety-five  disapprove  of  it,  those 
five  have  a  right  to  summon  the  11,000  county  representatives, 
and  take  their  sense  of  the  matter.  It  surely  requires  little  political 
judgment  to  pronounce  that  such  a  constitution  is  utterly  unfit  for 
the  regulation  of  an  extended  or  populous  empire  ;  yet  Great 
Britain  is  the  subject  upon  which  he  supposes  in  theory  that  the 
experiment  is  to  be  tried.  God  forbid  it  ever  should!  Had  this 
experiment  been  proposed  in  reality,  Mr.  Hume  himself  would 
have  been  the  first  man  to  have  resisted  it.  His  genuine  senti- 
ments of  such  experiments  he  has  given  in  the  words  of  sound 
sense  and  wisdom.  "It  is  not  with  forms  of  government,"  says 
he,  "  as  with  other  artificial  contrivances,  where  an  old  engine 
may  be  rejected  if  we  can  discover  another  more  accurate  or  com- 
modious, or  where  trials  may  be  safely  made,  even  though  the 
success  be  doubtful.  An  established  government  has  an  infinite 
advantage  by  that  very  circumstance  of  its  being  established  ;  the 
bulk  of  mankind  being  governed  by  authority,  not  reaswi,  and 
never  attributing  authority  to  any  thing   that  has  not   die    recom- 


en.    VI. j  ROMAN    COMMONWEALTH.  473 

inendatioii  of  antiquity.  To  lamj)er,  therefore,  in  this  afTair,"  says 
he,  "  and  to  try  ex|)erimenls,  merely  upon  the  credit  of  supposed 
argument  and  philo-^ophy,  can  never  be  the  part  of  a  wise  magis- 
trate, who  will  bear  a  reverence  to  what  carries  the  marks  of  age  : 
though  he  may  attempt  some  improvements  for  the  public  good, 
yet  he  will  adjust  his  innovations  as  much  as  possible  to  the  ancient 
fabric,  and  preserve  entire  the  chief  pillars  and  supports  of  the 
constitution." 

Time,  which  brings  improvement  to  every  science,  lias  undoubt- 
edly contributed  much  to  the  advancement  of  political  knowledge. 
Among  the  chief  advantages  derived  from  the  art  of  |)rinting  is 
that  of  fixing  and  perpetuating  all  human  attainments  in  science, 
which,  before  that  invention,  either  perished  with  their  authors, 
or  if  preserved  by  writing,  were  sparingly  communicated  even  la 
the  country  which  produced  them,  seldom  reached  beyond  it,  and 
were  often  in  the  course  of  a  few  generations  irretrievably  lost. 
By  the  art  of  printing,  the  opinions  of  some  of  the  greatest  of  the 
an'ient  philosophers  and  politicians,  and,  what  is  much  more 
valuable,  the  great  outlines  of  the  history  of  the  most  remarkable 
states  of  antiquity,  their  laws,  their  manners,  and  customs,  are  now 
committed  to  perpetual  records,  open  to  all  nations,  and  familiar 
to  the  knowledge  of  every  individual  who  has  enjoyed  the  most 
ordinary  education. 

It  is  from  this  knowledge  of  the  accumulated  experience  of  ages, 
that  not  only  men,  but  nations,  may  derive  the  most  important 
lessons.  History  will  inform  us,  thai  some  nations  have  enjoyed, 
during  the  course  of  many  ages,  an  unvarying  and  uninterrupted 
prosperity  ;  while  oiliL-rs  have  been  destined  to  a  short,  unfortu- 
nate, and  despicable  mediocrity.  History  will  inform  us,  that  the 
greatest  empires  which  have  hitherto  existed  on  the  earth  are  now 
sunk  into  oblivion  ;  that  Persia,  Egypt,  Greece,  Macedonia,  and 
Rome,  have  fallen  themselves,  like  the  petty  states  which  they 
overwhelmed  in  their  conquest.  But  while  we  contemplate  their 
changes  of  fortune,  their  prosperity,  their  disgraces,  their  revolu- 
tions, and  their  final  catastrophe,  must  these  vicissiludt«s  be  consid- 
ered only  as  the  efiect  of  a  blind  fatality  ?  Can  they  furnish  us 
with  no  other  cou'-lusion  than  that  every  huuian  institution  must 
yield  to  the  hand  of  time,  against  which  neither  wisdom  nor  virtue 
can  ultimately  aflbrd  a  defence  .'  No,  certainly  :  every  nation  of 
antiquity  has  met  with  that  fate  which  either  its  own  political  in- 
stituiinns,  or  the  operation  of  foreign  circumstances,  must  necessa- 
rily have  induced.  "Accustom  your  mind,"  said  the  excellent 
Phocion  to  Aristias,  "  to  discern  in  the  prosperity  of  nations  that 
recom|)ense  which  the  Author  of  Nature  Iws  allixcd  to  the  |)raclice 
of  virtue  ;  and  in  their  adversity,  the  chastisement  which  lie  has 
thought  proper  to  bestow  on  vice."  No  state  ever  censed  to  bfl 
prosperous,  but  in  conserpience  of  having  departed  liom  thos« 
institutions  to  which  she  owed  her  prosperity. 
VOL.  I.  00 


47  J  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK  IV 

The  aiuiciu  political  writors,  in  speaking  on  the  best  Jbrm  of 
1  political  cstahlishnient,  licld  this  as  a  f^rcat  desideratum,  that  a 
governniont  should  possess  within  itself  a  power  of  periodical  re- 
formation ;  a  capacity  of  reforming  from  time  to  time  all  abuses  ; 
of  checking  every  overgrowth  of  power  in  any  one  branch  of  the 
body  politic  ;  and,  at  short  intervals  of  time,  winding  up,  as  it 
were,  the  springs  of  the  machine,  and  bringing  the  constitution 
back  to  its  first  principles.  To  the  want  of  this  power  of  periodical 
refi)rmation  in  the  ancient  constitutions,  which  was  ineffectually 
endeavored  to  be  supplied  by  such  contrivances  as  the  ostracism 
and  petalism,  we  may  in  a  great  measure  attribute  their  decline 
and  extinction  ;  for  in  these  governments,  when  the  balance  was 
once  destroyed  by  an  increase  of  power  in  any  one  branch,  the 
evil  grew  worse  from  day  to  day,  and  at  length,  was  utterly  irre- 
mediable, unless  by  a  revolution  or  entire  change  of  the  political 
system.  Happily  for  us  Britons,  that  which  was  a  desideratum 
in  the  ancient  governments  is  with  us  realized  ;  that  power  of 
reforming  all  abuses,  and  even  of  making  alterations  and  amend- 
ments as  time  and  circumstances  require,  which  is  perfectly  agree- 
able to  the  spirit  of  our  constitution,  has  given  us  an  unspeakable 
advantage,  both  over  all  the  states  of  antiquity,  and  over  every 
other  government  among  the  moderns.  But  let  us  not  abuse  this 
advantage,  or  convert  what  is  a  wholesome  remedy  into  a  poison. 
There  are  seasons  when  political  reforms  are  safe,  expedient,  and 
desirable  ;  tiiere  are  others  when  none  but  the  most  rash  empir- 
ic would  jirescribe  their  application.  If  the  minds  of  a  people 
are  violently  agitated  by  political  enthusiasm,  kindled  by  the  ex- 
ample of  other  nations  actually  in  a  state  of  revolution, — if  that 
class  of  the  people  who  derive  their  subsistence  from  bodily  labor 
and  industry  are  artfully  rendered  discontented  with  their  situation, 
inflamed  by  pictures  of  imaginary  grievances,  and  stimulated  by 
delusive  representations  of  immunities  to  be  acquired,  and  bless- 
ings to  be  obtained,  by  new  political  systems,  in  which  they  them- 
selves are  to  be  legislators  and  governors, — if  there  should  be  a 
time  when  the  common  people  are  taught  to  believe  that  a  sub- 
ordination of  ranks  and  conditions  is  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God 
and  nature,  and  that  the  inequality  they  perceive  in  the  possessions 
of  the  rich  and  poor  is  a  proof  of  the  diseased  state  of  the  body 
politic, — if  such  should  be  the  delusions  of  the  community,  wliich 
the  traitorous  designs  of  others  aim  at  rendering  general  ;  in  such 
a  crisis  it  cannot  be  the  part  of  true  patiotism  to  attempt  the  reform 
or  amendment  even  of  confessed  imperfections.  The  hazard  oi 
the  experiment  at  such  a  time  is  apparent  to  all  rational  and  reflec- 
ting men.  It  is  then  we  feel  it  our  duty  to  resist  all  attempts  at 
innovation — to  cherish  with  gratitude  the  blessings  we  enjoy,  and 
quietly  await  a  more  favorable  opportunity  of  gently  and  easily 
removing  our  small  imperfections — trivial,  indeed,  when  balanced 
against  that  high  measure  of  political  happiness  of  which  the  com 
munity  at  large  is  possessed. 


BOOK     THE     FIFTH 


CHAPTER  I. 


Fate  of  the  Roman  Republic  decided  by  the  Battle  of  Actium — Rei^n  of  A  *- 
gustus  —  Birth  of  our  Saviour  Jescs  Christ  —  Tiberius — Cruc-fixion  of 
our  Saviour — Caligula — Claudius— Nero— Galba — Oiho — Viiellius — V^espamiaa 
— Titus — Domitian — Nerva — Trajan — Adrian. 

The  batlle  of  Actium  decided,  as  we  have  above  seen,  the  fate  of 
the  Roman  republic;  and  Ociavins,  now  hailed  by  the  splendid 
title  of  Augustus,  was  master  of  the  Roman  empire.  We  have 
seen  this  singular  person  raise  himself  to  the  highest  siunmit  of 
power,  without  a  tincture  of  those  manly  and  heroic  virtues  which 
generally  distinguish  the  authors  of  imjioriant  revolutions.  Those 
fortunate  circumstances  which  concurred  to  })romoie  his  elevation; 
the  adoption  by  Julius  Cssar,  the  weakness  of  Lepidus,  the  irifa'- 
uation  of  xMark  Antony,  the  treachery  of  Cleopatra,  and,  perhaps, 
more  than  all,  his  own  insinuating  llattory  and  duplicity  of  con- 
duct— were  shortly  hinted  at  as  the  great  instruments  in  the  good 
fortune  of  Augustus. 

Possessing  that  sagacity  which  enabled  lum  to  discern  distinctly 
what  species  of  character  woidd  please  the  people,  he  had,  in 
addition  to  this,  all  that  versatilitv  of  genius  which  enabled  him  to 
assume  it;  and  so  successfully  did  he  follow  out  this  idea,  that  to 
those  unacquainted  with  the  former  conduct  of  the  man,  nothini; 
was  UDW  discernible  l)ut  the  (pialities  which  were  indicative  o| 
goodness,  and  virtue,  and  munificence.  The  fate  of  Ca'sar  warned 
him  of  the  insecurity  of  an  usurped  dominion;  and  we  shall  sec 
him,  whilst  he  studiously  imitated  the  clemency  of  his  great  pre- 
decessor, affect  a  much  greater  degree  of  respect  for  the  pretended 
rights  of  that  degraded  jieople  whom  he  ruled  at  the  same  time 
will)  the  most  absolute  aiithc.rity.  lie  had  not  yet  returned  from 
J-^gypt  when,  at  Rome,  tliev  had  already  decreed  him  every  honor 
both  human  and  divine.  The  title  of  Impemtor  was  conferred  on 
him  for  life.  His  colleague,  Sextus  Apidcius,  along  with  the  whole 
senate,  look  a  solemn  oath  to  obey  the  emperor's  decrees;  and  i( 
was  determined   that   he  should   liold  the  consulate  so  long  as  h« 


476  UNivKiisAi.  irisTouY.  [book  v. 

estecnied  it  nrM;ess:iry  for  tho  iiilcrosts  of  the  people.  Such 
was  the  conlciiipiible  servility  of  all  ranks  of  llic  stale,  that  tem- 
ples were  erected  to  his  honor,  and  piihlic  worship  and  sacrifice 
performed  at  the  altars  of  tiie  "divine  Augustus."  lie,  howev- 
er, with  hccoming  modesty,  requested  that  these  honors  might  be 
paid  to  him  in  the  provinces  alone,  as  at  Rome  lie  should  never 
regard  himself  but  as  a  private  citizen  invested  with  the  superin- 
tendence of  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  republic.  The  stale 
being  now  in  profound  peace,  the  temple  of  Janus,  which  had  re- 
mained open  since  the  beginning  of  the  second  Punic  war — a  pe- 
riod of  183  years — was  shut, — an  event  which  occasioned  the 
most  universal  joy.  This  single  circumstance  contributed  much 
to  abolish  the  memory  of  all  those  cruelties,  proscriptions,  and 
complicated  horrors,  which  had  accompanied  the  triumvirate  and 
the  civil  wars;  and  the  "infatuated  Romans  now  believed  them- 
selves a  free  people,  since  they  had  no  longer  to  fight  for  their 
liberty."* 

It  was  the  policy  of  Augustus  to  keep  up  this  favorable  delu- 
sion, by  extraordinary  marks  of  indulgence  and  munificence.  He 
gratified  the  people  by  continually  amusing  them  with  their  favor- 
ite games  and  spectacles;  he  afTected  an  extreme  regard  for  all 
the  ancient  popular  customs;  he  pretended  the  utmost  deference 
for  the  senate;  he  re-established  the  Comitia,  which  the  internal 
commotions  of  the  government  had  prevented  from  being  regu- 
larly held;  he  flattered  the  people  with  the  ancient  right  of  elect- 
ing their  own  magistrates;  if  he  jirescnted  candidates,  it  was  only 
to  give  a  simple  recommendation,  under  reservation  that  they 
should  be  judged  worthy  by  the  people,  and  the  people,  on  their 
part,  could  not  but  regard  as  the  most  certain  symptom  of  desert, 
the  recommendation  of  so  gracious  a  prince.  It  was  in  this  man- 
ner that  Augustus,  by  the  retention  of  all  those  empty  but  an- 
cient appendages  of  liberty,  concealed  the  form  of  that  arbitrary 
monarchy  which  he  determined  to  maintain  ;  and  that  he  thus, 
With  the  most  hypocritical  and  specious  generosity,  contrived,  with 
tho  machinery  of  freedom,  to  accomplish  all  the  purposes  of  des- 
potism. 

After  having  established  an  appearance  of  order  in  the  several 
departments  of  the  state,  Augustus,  to  complete  the  farce,  afiected 
a  wish  to  abdicate  his  authority,  and  return  to  the  rank  of  a  pri- 
vate citizen;  but  this  was  a  piece  of  gross  afTectaiion.  He  con- 
sulted Mecajnas,  however,  and  Marcus  Agrippa,  whether  he  ought 
to  follow  his  inclination.  MecjEuas,  with  the  most  honest,  though 
certainly  not  the  wisest  policy,  exhorted  him  to  put  his  design  in 
execution;  but  Agrippa,  more  of  a  courtier,  and  jierhaps  having 
more  discernment  into  the  real  character  of  Augustus,  or  dreading 


*  Condillac. 


CII.   I.]  AUGUSTUS  477 

tlio  repetition  of  those  cruel  and  tnrbiilen.  scenes  which  Ija>l  pre- 
ceded liis  exaltation,  assured  liiin  tliat  the  pubhc  happiness  depen- 
ded entirely  on  his  continuing  to  hold  the  reins  of  governmeni  ; 
and  this  advice  was  too  consonant  to  the  actual  views  of  Augus- 
tus not  to  be  readily  embraced. 

This  seeming  moderation,  however,  increased  the  popularity  of 
Augustus,  and  even  paved  the  way  for  an  extension  of  his  power, 
riie  censorship  had,  for  many  years,  fallen  into  disuse.  Under 
the  pretence  of  effecting  a  reformation  of  various  abuses  in  the 
several  orders  of  the  community,  Augustus  requested  thai  he 
might  be  invested  with  censorial  powers  ;  and  having  obtained  inis 
office,  he  introduced  many  improvements  in  the  different  di-parl- 
ments  of  the  government,  which,  alihou'^h  salutary  in  theni'^eives, 
contributed  much  to  the  increase  of  his  own  authority.  With  this 
daily  augmentation  of  power,  he  was  not  without  continual  alarms, 
for  his  personal  safety.  He  was  naturally  timid,  and  the  fate  of 
Caisar  was  ever  before  him.  For  a  considerable  time,  he  never 
went  to  the  senate-house  without  a  suit  of  armor  under  his  robe  ; 
he  carried  a  dagger  in  his  girdle  ;  and  was  always  surrounded  by 
ten  of  the  bravest  of  the  senators,  on  whose  attachment  he  could 
thoroughly  depend.  It  was  much  to  the  credit  of  Augustus  that 
he  reposed  an  unlimited  confidence  in  Mecrcnas — a  most  able  min- 
ister, and  one  who,  with  the  firmest  attachment  to  his  sovereign,  ap- 
pears to  have  always  had  at  heart  the  interest  and  happiness  of  the 
people.  It  was  by  his  excellent  counsels  that  Augustus  was  taught 
to  assume  those  virtues  to  which  his  nature  was  a  stranger;  it  \\a? 
to  the  patronage  of  Meca^nas  that  literature  and  the  fine  arts  owed 
riuch  of  their  encouragement  and  consequent  progress;  it  was  by  his 
instructions,  by  the  counsels  he  inculcated,  that  the  base  and  inhuman 
Ociavius  was  transformed  into  the  affable  and  humane  Augustus. 

In  the  seventh  year  of  his  consulate,  Augustus  again  pretended 
a  desire  to  abdicate,  and  he  actually  informed  the  senate  that  he 
had  resigned  all  authority  ;  but  he  was  now  secure  of  the  conse- 
quences of  this  avowal.  From  those  mercenary  voices  which  had, 
no  doubt,  been  behind  the  scenes,  well  trained  to  this  hypocritical 
farce,  there  was  now  one  universal  cry  of  supplication,  entreating  him 
not  to  abandon  that  republic  which  he  had  preserved  from  destruc- 
tion, and  whose  existence  depended  on  his  paternal  care.  "  Since 
it  must  be  so,"  said  he,  "  I  accept  the  empire  for  ten  years,  unices 
the  public  peace  and  tranquillity  shall  permit  me  before  that  time 
to  seek  that  ease  and  retirement  which  I  so  passionately  desire.* 
He  would  not  even  consent  to  take  the  burden  of  the  whole  em- 
pire, but  entreated  that  the  senate  and  people  should  govern  a 
part  of  the  provinces.  From  the  distribution  which  followed,  we 
learn  the  extent  of  the  Roman  empire  at  this  lime,  .\ugiistus 
reserved  for  his  own  government  Italy,  the  two  GaiiU,  Spain,  Ger- 
many, Syria,  Phrenicia,  Cyprus,  and  Fcypl.  To  the  senate 
and  people  were  allotted   .'?/nca   Proprr,  Numidia,   Lybia.  Billiy- 


178  UNIVERSAL   ItlSTOUV.  [dOOK   V 

Ilia,  Ponlus,  Greece,  Illyri.n,  Maccrionia,  Dalmaiia,  and  the  Islands 
of  Crete,  Sicily,  and  Sardinia.  The  provinces  of  wliicli  Augus- 
tus retained  the  ^overnincjnt  direct  were  tliose  wlicre  the  legions 
ucrc  principally  stationed  ! 

Thi!  tide  of  Consul,  which  iiad  heen  of  assistance  at  first  in 
disguising  his  power,  was  now  judged  unnecessary  by  Augustus  ; 
and  the  annual  ceremony  of  the  renewal  of  this  dignity  perhaps 
lecalled  too  strongly  to  the  minds  of  the  people  the  irrevocable 
tenure  by  which  he  held  it.  He  resigned  it,  therefore,  in  the 
eleventh  year  of  liis  consulate  ;  and,  as  a  compensation  for  this 
exorcise  of  moderation,  the  people  entreated  him  to  accept  of  the 
oflice  of  Perpetual  Tribune.  By  this  refined  policy,  every  in- 
crease of  power  seemed,  so  far  from  any  encroachment  upon  his 
part,  to  be  forced  upon  him  by  the  anxious  entreaty  of  the  peo- 
ple. In  virtue  of  this  last  office,  he  became  in  all  causes,  civil 
as  well  as  criminal,  the  supreme  judge.  Formerly  in  the  republic 
there  had  never  been  recognised  any  right  of  appeal  from  any 
of  the  courts  to  the  tribunes;  but  the  people,  who  had  always  till 
now  considered  themselves  as  possessing  the  supereminent  right 
of  appeal,  now  voluntarily  conferred  it  upon  their  perpetual  tri- 
bune, as  their  chief  magistrate  and  virtual  representative. 

iMarcellus,  the  nephew  of  Augustus,  to  whom  he  had  given  his 
daughter  in  marriage,  and  whom  he  destined  for  his  successor — 
a  personage  of  great  promise — died  at  this  time,  to  the  unspeak- 
able regret  of  the  Roman  people,  in  the  very  flower  of  his  youth. 
He  had  just  completed  his  twentieth  year,  and  in  his  talents  and 
disposition  had  begun  to  show  every  indication  of  a  great  and  a 
generous  prince.  He  has  been  immortalized  by  Virgil  in  that  ex- 
quisite eulogium,  with  which  all  are  acquainted,  in  the  sixth  book 
of  his  iEneid. 

Marcus  Agrippa  was  the  man  who  seemed  to  stand  next  to  this 
amiable  youth  in  the  affection  of  the  emperor.  Agrippa  had  mar- 
ried the  niece  of  Augustus  ;  but  on  the  death  of  Marcellus,  he 
caused  him  to  divorce  her,  and  in  return  gave  him  his  daughter, 
the  widow  of  Marcellus,  in  marriage.  This  lady  was  the  infa- 
mous Julia,  who  afterwards  became  so  openly  scandalous  in  her 
amours,  that  her  father,  after  informing  the  senate  of  his  reasons, 
cond  mined  her  to  banishment. 

Notwithstanding  the  absolute  authority  now  possessed  by  Au- 
gustus, it  1-as  still  the  policy  of  this  monarch  to  retain  all  the  ex- 
terior forms  of  a  republic.  The  elections  of  magistrates  were  punc- 
tually held  in  the  Comitia.  Consuls  were,  as  usual,  annually 
chosen  ;  and  the  republic  retained  its  aediles,  its  tribunes,  its  quaes- 
tors, and  praetors.  In  the  government  of  Augustus,  and  in  the 
gradual  increase  of  his  authority,  the  prince,  to  all  appearance  de- 
rives his  power  from  the  people.  After  a  little,  we  shall  observe 
the  emperor  artecting  to  conceal  this  truth  ;  and  in  the  sequel,  it 
will  be  toiallv  forgotten. 


CII      I.]  AUGUSTUS.  479 

While  AugusUis  had  thus,  step  by  step,  arrived  ut  ihc  si.mmit 
of  power,  his  son-in-law  Agrippa  had  entirely  brought  undi-r  sub- 
jection tiie  Spanish  peninsula,  where,  for  nearly  two  centuries,  the 
Romans  had  been  compelled  to  a  continual  struggle.  Augustus, 
to  secure  his  own  authority,  by  firmly  attaching  to  himself  so  able 
a  general,  associated  him  with  himself  in  the  oflice  of  censor. 
The  two  censors  immediately  applied  themselves  with  great  vigor 
to  the  reformation  of  abuses.  Augustus,  perhaps  not  hypocriti- 
cally, affected  the  highest  regard  to  the  purity  of  public  njorals, 
although  in  his  own  j)rivate  life  he  is  known  to  have  been  profli- 
gate and  vicious. 

The  tenth  year,  the  period  which  he  had  appointed  for  laymg 
down  his  authority,  had  now  arrived.  He  accordingly  did  so, 
and,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the  people,  again  resumed  it ;  and 
so  fond  does  he  appear  to  have  been  of  this  solemn  farce,  that  five 
times  in  the  course  of  his  government  he  amused  the  nation  wiiJ) 
this  empty  pageantry  of  their  pretended  ])ower.  The  empire  was 
now  again  threatened  with  war,  and  Augustus  set  out  for  Gaul, 
into  which  the  Germans  had  begun  now  to  make  those  irrtiptions, 
which  proved  afterwards  so  fatal  to  the  provinces.  Drusus,  in  the 
meantime,  defeated  the  llha?iians,  a  peo|)le  inhabiting  part  of  the 
n  tern  Switzerland  ;  and  Agrippa  restored  peace  to  Asia.  In 
marking  the  successive  steps  of  despotism,  it  is  not  unnecessary 
to  mention  that  this  general  was  the  first  who  refused  the  honor 
of  a  triumph,  which  gave  rise  to  this  privilege  belonging  ever  af- 
terwards only  to  the  emperors  ;  and  that  he  omitted  also,  for  the 
first  time,  that  customary  form  of  acquainting  the  senate  with  the 
detail  of  his  military  operations,  corresponding  with  .Vugustus 
alone.  In  these  matters,  of  course,  his  example  became  hence- 
forth the  rule. 

At  this  time  died  Marcus  Agrippa,  and  his  widow  Julia  now 
took  her  third  husband,  Tiberius,  who  became  thus  by  a  double 
tie  the  son-in-law  of  Augustus,  for  the  emperor  had  likewise  mar- 
ried his  mother  Livia.  Augustus  was  then  at  war  with  the  Pan- 
nonians,  Dacians,  and  Dalmatians.  Tiberius  and  his  brother 
Drusus  commanded  the  armies  iigain<^t  those  barbarous  tribes  with 
great  success,  but,  to  the  deej)  regret  of  the  Romans,  their  particular 
favorite  Drusus  died  in  Germany,  leaving  three  children,  Germani- 
cus,  Claudius  (afterwards  emperor.)  and  Julia,  mwried  to  Cains 
Ca?sar.  Caius  was  the  son  of  .\grippa  by  Julia,  whom  .Xugustus  had 
adopted,  along  with  his  brother  Lucius.  These  two  princes  died 
soon  after,  jioisoned  as  it  was  supposed  by  Livia,  the  wife  of  .Au- 
gustus, to  make  way  for  the  succession  of  her  son  Tiberius,  This 
dark  and  ambitious  man  now  bent  all  his  |)owers  to  gain  the  con- 
fidence of  .Augustus,  who,  upon  his  return  from  a  successful  cam 
paign  against  the  Germans,  not  only  allowed  him  the  honor  of  a 
triumph,  but  associated  him  with  himself  in  the  government  of  the 
empire.      .\t  the  request  of  Augustus  also,  the  people,  accustomed 


"laO  U.MVKUSAI,    IIISTOKV.  [hOOK   V 

now  to  uiilliuilt'd  (  oinpliiinre,  cnnferrcd  upon  Tiljciiiis  ilic  goveiii- 
inent  of  llio  provinces  and  the  supreme  coininaiid  of  llie  airnies 

On  the  ground  of  his  advanced  age,  the  emperor  now  found  an 
opportunity  of  shaking  off  all  that  dependence  upon  the  senate 
and  people  to  which  his  policy  had  hiiherto  confined  iiim.  He 
no  longer  ca. no  regularly  to  the  senate,  but  formed  a  sort  of  privy 
council,  consisting  of  twenty  senators,  together  with  the  consuls 
of  the  year,  and  the  consiiles  dcsignati;  and  it  was  determined  in 
the  senate,  that  the  resolutions  of  this  assembly  should  have  the 
same  authority  as  the  senatus  consulla.  Augustus  did  not  long 
survive  this  his  last  and  boldest  innovation.  He  died  soon  after 
at  Nola,  in  Campania,  in  the  seventy-sixth  year  of  his  age,  after 
having,  in  conjunction  with  Mark  Antony,  ruled  the  Ronum  repub- 
lic for  nearly  twelve,  and  governed  alone  as  emperor  for  forty-four 
years. 

In  treating  of  the  Roman  literature,  we  observed  that  high  de- 
gree of  advancement  to  which  it  attained  under  the  reign  of  Au- 
gustus ;  and  we  may  attribute  no  small  part  of  that  lustre  which 
has  been  thrown  upon  his  administration,  to  the  splendid  coloring 
bestowed  on  his  character  by  the  illustrious  poets  who  adorned  his 
court,  and  repaid  his  favors  by  their  incense  and  adulation. 

"  Vixere  fortes  ante  Ajjamemnona 
Multi,sed  omiies  illacrymabiles 
Urgentur  ignotique   longa 
Nocte,  carcnt  quia  vate  sacro." 

Augustus,  by  his  testament,  had  named  Tiberius  his  heir,  to- 
gether with  his  mother  Livia,  and  substituted  to  them  Drusus,  the 
son  of  Tiberius,  and  Germanicus.  Tiberius  was  no  favorite  with 
the  body  of  the  people.  They  knew  him  to  be  vicious  and  de- 
bauched, and  of  a  severe  and  cruel  disposition  ;  yet  to  so  low  a 
pitch  of  degradation  had  they  now  fallen,  that  the  very  dread  of 
these  vices  in  his  character  operated  so  strongly  on  their  servile 
niinds  as  to  secure  his  succession  to  the  empire  without  a  whisper 
of  opposition.  An  embassy  of  the  senators  was  deputed  to  offer 
him  the  reins  of  government  while  he  was  on  his  return  from 
Illyria.  He  received  them  with  much  afiected  humility ;  talked 
of  the  burden  of  so  extensive  an  empire  and  his  own  limited  abil- 
.ty;  pretended  uncommon  unwillingness  to  undertake  so  exalted 
an  office  ;  and,  at  length,  after  the  usual  ceremony  of  tears  and 
supplication  on  the  part  of  the  senate,  was  at  last  prevailed  to 
yield  to  their  entreaties. 

Notwithstanding  these  promising  symptoins,  this  was  all  the 
n:\ockery  of  moderation  with  which  Tiberius  ever  condescended  to 
Hatter  the  prejudices  of  the  senate  or  the  people  ;  for  it  soon  after 
appeared  that  he  esteemed  the  power  enjoyed  by  his  predecessor 
as  far  too  little  for  his  ambition.  It  was  not  sufficient  for  him 
that  the  substance  of  the  republic  was  now  gone  for  ever  ;  the 
very  appearance  of  it,  and  all  those  forms  which  recalled  it  to  his 


CH.    I.]  TIBERIUS.  431 

recollection,  were  judged  necessary  to  bo  abolished  A  *  Justus 
had  received  from  the  people  the  power  of  legislation,  but  he  left 
them  in  return  the  right  of  electing  their  own  magistrates,  and  al. 
the  privileges  of  the  Comitia.  Tibi-rius  at  once  abolished  all  these 
formalities.  The  |)eople  were  no  longer  assembled,  yet  the  eir  • 
peror  did  not  choose  to  break  entirely  with  the  senate.  He  fre- 
quently atlected  to  consult  them,  or  at  least  to  communicate  tc 
them  his  resolutions,  and  flattered  them  still  with  the  possession  of 
a  shadow  of  authority. 

The  uncertainty  of  the  laws  with  regard  to  treason  gave  at  las. 
to  Tiberius  an  oj)portunity  of  discovering  his  natural  disposition 
Sylla  had  declared  the  authors  of  libels  guilty  of  treason.  This 
law  had  fallen  into  disuse  under  Julius  Ca;sar,  who  treated  such 
offences  with  their  meriteil  contempt.  Augustus  had  revived  ll», 
law;  Tiberius,  with  his  usual  dissimulation,  neither  renewed  it  no: 
abrogated  it.  The  praetor  having  asked  if  he  should  take  co; 
nizance  of  such  offences,  the  emperor  vouchsafed  him  no  other 
answer  than  that  ho  should  observe  the  laws;  an  answer  whicl. 
sufficiently  informed  the  people  what  they  had  to  expect,  wliiis. 
Tiberius  j)ersuaded  himself  that  he  thus  avoided  all  imputation  of 
adopting  sanguinary  measures. 

Meantime  his  nephew,  Germanicus,  who  was  acquiring  zte^. 
glory  by  his  military  exploits  in  Germany,  was  recalled  by  Tibe- 
rius, wlio  had  become  jealous  of  his  popularity  with  the  army. 
The  emperor  sent  him  to  the  oriental  provinct;s  on  the  pretence  of 
quelling  some  insurrections,  and  a  short  time  after  he  (Iieil~-a5 
ivas  suspected  of  poison  administered  to  him  by  command  ol  Ti- 
berius. Every  vicious  prince  has  his  favorite,  the  minister  of  his 
pleasure,  and  the  obsequious  instrument  of  his  criminal  or  tyranni- 
cal purposes.  iElius  Sejanus  was  prefect  of  the  pranorian  bandj-. 
who  were  the  emperor's  guards — a  body  of  men  amounting  then 
to  ten  thousand  of  the  flower  of  the  troops,  but  who,  increasing 
in  number  and  in  j)olitical  power,  became  at  last  the  sovereisn  dis- 
posers of  the  empire.  Sejanus,  their  prefort,  accpiirrd  at  length 
so  complete  an  ascendoncy  over  the  mind  of  T/uerius,  that  he  over- 
came ilie  natural  reserve  and  suspicion  of  his  temper,  and  became 
the  confidant  of  his  most  secret  thought?.  It  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  this  minion  should  entertain  the  highest  views  of  airh 
bition.  He  conceived  no  less  a  design  than  to  exterminate  the 
whole  family  of  the  Cn'sars,  and  his  first  step  was  the  poisoning  of 
Drusns,  the  son  of  Tiberius,  wliich  he  contrived  to  execute  so 
secretly  that  he  escaj)ed  nil  suspicion  both  of  the  emperor  and  of 
the  j)eople.  His  next  design  was  to  rcmovt;  ;\crip;)ina,  the  widow 
of  Germanicus,  with  her  two  sons,  Nero  and  tbo  younger  Dni^iis. 
Sejanus  accordingly  represented  Agrippina  to  Tiberius  as  a  women 
of  unlimited  ambition,  and  who  secretly  fomented  a  party  of  maJ«*- 
contents  in  the  state  as  assistants  to  her  own  aggrandizement  nnc 
tl^t  of  her  sons.  To  this  accusation,  the  natural  pride  and  h.?iigh 
vol..  I.  'il 


482  UNivEiisAi.  HISTORY.  [book  V 

tiness  of  llic  loii)|)cr  of  Aj;ri|)j)ina  gave  some  shadow  of  color,  and 
sl)e  niiii  Nero,  lier  eldest  son,  were  condemned  to  banishment, 
whilst  ihe  younger  Drnsus,  was  confined  to  prison. 

Every  day  now  produced  some  new  information,  some  pretended 
chir::e  of  treason  hrouf^ht  by  Sejanus  and  his  infamous  minions 
against  iho  most  eminent  persons  of  liie  court;  and  the  idea  that 
thesJ  informations  were  pleasing  to  the  dark  and  vindictive  mind 
of  the  emperor,  began  to  multiply  them  exceedingly.  The  con- 
stant executions  for  treason,  by  which  Sejanus  was  daily  clearing 
the;way  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  own  designs,  produced  at 
length  such  an  effect  on  the  gloomy  temper  of  Tiberius,  that  he 
believed  his  life  to  be  in  continual  danger.  At  the  instigation  of 
Sejanus,  he  quitted  Rome  and  retired  to  the  Isle  of  Capreac,  in 
the  Day  of  Naples,  carrying  with  him  a  few  of  the  senators,  and 
some  Greek  literati,  in  whose  conversation  he  professed  to  find 
entertainment.  It  is  said  that  in  this  retreat  the  old  tyrant  gave 
himself  up  to  excesses  in  debauchery  which  exceed  all  credibility. 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  severity  of  his  former  manner  of 
life  was  very  opposite  to  such  licentiousness  of  character,  and  we 
may  naturally  presume  that  the  haired  of  his  subjects,  and  the 
concealment  which  he  probably  chose  from  the  consideration  of 
personal  safety,  have  given  occasion  to  much  aspersion,  or  at  least 
to  great  exaggerations  on  the  subject. 

Sejanus,  meanwhile,  had  acquired  an  absolute  authority  in 
Rome,  and  was  sovereign  in  every  thing  but  the  name.  It  was 
but  a  small  step,  to  a  villain  of  his  complexion,  to  aim  likewise  at 
that  last  acquisition.  He  formed,  therefore,  a  design,  to  assassi 
nate  Tiberius; — but  the  conspiracy  was  discovered.  Such,  how- 
ever, was  the  influence  of  Sejanus,  that  the  emperor  was  obliged 
to  use  art  and  address  to  bring  him  to  punishment.  He  at  first  load- 
ed him  with  caresses,  and  caused  him  to  be  nominated  to  the  con- 
sulate. He  then  took  occasion  privately  to  sound  the  minds  of  the 
people,  and  hinted  some  groinids  of  dissatisfaction  w  ith  his  conduct, 
which  instantly  he  perceived  to  cool  the  zeal  of  his  former  flitterers 
and  pretended  friends.  Convinced  now  of  the  ground  on  which  he 
stood,  and  certain  that  this  dreaded  popularity  of  Sejanus  was  hol- 
low, and  the  effect  of  power  alone,  whilst  he  was  really  detested  oy 
all  ranks  in  the  state,  Tiberius  deemed  it  time  to  throw  off  the  mask. 
He  sent,  therefore,  an  officer  to  deprive  him  of  the  command  of 
the  praetorian  guards;  and  accusing  him  at  the  same  lime  of  trea- 
son by  a  letter  to  the  senate,  Sejanus  was  instantly  arrested,  con- 
demned to  death  by  acclamation,  torn  to  pieces,  and  thrown  into 
the  Tiber.  Tiberius  now  became  more  negligent  than  ever  of 
the  cares  of  government,  and  confusion  prevailed  in  every  depart- 
ment of  the  state.  The  magistracies  were  unsupplied,  the  distant 
provinces  were  without  governors,  and  the  Roman  name  became 
contemptii)le.  The  only  exertions  of  the  imperial  power  were 
manifested  in  public  executions,  confiscations,  and  the  most  com- 
plinated  scenes  of  cruelty  and  rauine.     At  lensth  the  emoire  was- 


CII.    I,'  CALIGULA.  489 

delivered  from  this  odious  tyrant,  who  falling  sick  at  Miscnuin,  was 
strangled  in  his  bed  by  Macro,  the  new  j)refect,  who  had  succeeded 
Sejanus  in  tiie  connnand  of  the  praetorian  cohorts.  He  was  put 
to  death  in  the  78ih  year  of  liis  age,  and  the  2.jrd  of  his  reign. 

One  great  event  distinguished  the  reign  of  Tiberius.  In  the 
18th  year  of  that  reign,  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God,  and  the  divine  author  of  our  religion,  sulTered  death 
upon  the  cross,  a  sacrifice  and  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  mankind. 
It  is  said  tiiat  soon  after  his  death,  Pilate,  the  Jewish  governor, 
wrote  to  Tiberius  an  account  of  his  passion,  resurrection,  and  mi- 
racles, upon  which  the  emperor  made  a  report  of  the  whole  to  the 
senate,  desiring  that  Jesus  might  be  acknowledged  a  god  by  the 
Romans,  but  that  the  senate,  dis[)leased  that  the  j)roposal  had  not 
come  from  themselves,  refused  the  emperor's  request.  This  last 
circumstance  utterly  discredits  the  story,  for  the  Roman  senate 
dared  not  refuse  the  request  of  Tiberius.  The  progress  of  the 
Christian  religion,  from  its  first  institution  till  the  utter  extinction 
of  Paganism  in  the  Roman  empire,  will  form  the  future  subject  of 
a  connected  chapter. 

By  his  testament,  the  emperor  had  nominated  as  his  successor 
Caligula,  tiie  son  of  Germanicus,  and  his  grandson  by  adoption, 
together  widi  Tiberius,  the  son  of  Drusus,  and  his  grandson  by 
blood.  Caligula  was,  on  his  father's  account,  the  favorite  of  the 
people,  and  more  especially  of  the  soldiers,  amongst  whom  he  liad 
been  educated;  and  the  senate,  to  gratify  the  people,  chose  to  set 
aside  the  nomination  in  favor  of  Tiberius,  and  to  confer  the  sove- 
reignty on  Caligula  alone.  His  accession  to  the  empire,  gave, 
therefore,  universal  satisfaction  ;  and,  for  a  time,  he  condescended 
to  maintain  this  favorable  opinion  by  a  few  acts  of  clemency  and 
moderation.  He  removed  the  informers  who  swarmed  through 
Rome.,  and  had  been  the  bane  of  the  preceiling  reign.  He  re- 
stored for  a  while  the  privileges  of  the  Comitia,  and  he  gratified 
the  people  still  more  by  their  favorite  exhibition  of  |)ublic  games 
and  shows.  But  this  dawn  of  sunshine  soon  gave  place  to  a  day 
of  gloom  and  horror.  Caligula,  weary  of  dis.simulation,  threw  ofT 
the  mask  at  once.  Macro,  the  murderer  of  his  predecessor,  was 
too  dangerous  a  man  to  continue  long  in  tiiat  favor  with  Cali- 
gula in  which  this  ))iece  of  service;  had  placed  him — he  was  accord- 
ingly murdered.  The  young  Tiberius,  although  then  no  favorite 
of  the  people,  might  become  so,  when  they  discovered  the  real 
temper  of  the  rival  they  had  preferred  to  him.  lie  was,  there- 
fore, speedily  cut  ofT.  Caligula  had  abolished  informations  on 
account  of  treason,  but  he  did  so  only  to  facilitate  the  rapidity  of 
execution,  and  he  now,  therefore,  required  not  the  formality  of  an 
information.  He  put  to  death,  without  assigning  even  a  pretence, 
whatever  person  he  took  a  prejudice  against.  It  is  inconceivable 
to  what  excess  this  monster  proceeded.  His  whole  reign,  with 
the  excej)tion    of  a  few  months  at   its  coramencement,  was  one 


'lu  1  UMVK.nsAL     IIISTOUV.  [jiOOK   V 

ronrimipcl  niul  romplicatod  srniie  of  madness  and  cruelty.  "Ca- 
lij^tiln,"  says  Montesruiion,  "  was  a  true  sophist  in  his  cruehy  :  as 
ho  was  the  desrendaiit  of  both  Antony  and  Augustus,  he  was 
wont  to  say,  that  ho  would  f)tniish  both  those  who  celebrated  the 
anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Actium,  and  those  who  did  not." 
Upon  the  death  of  his  sister,  Drusilla,  he  punished  some  for 
mourning  for  her,  because  they  ought  to  have  known  she  was  a 
goddess  ;  and  put  to  death  others  for  not  mourning,  because  she 
was  the  sister  ©f  the  emperor. 

In  addition  to  all  this,  Caligula  loaded  the  provinces  with  the 
most  excessive  taxes  ;  and  such  was  his  avarice,  that  every  day 
some  of  the  citizens  fell  a  sacrifice  in  the  confiscations  of  their 
]iroperty.  It  would  only  create  disgust  were  we  to  enter  into  any 
detail  of  the  comj)licated  and  ingenious  cruelties  and  the  absurd 
extravagances  of  a  madman — of  the  multiplied  instances  of  his 
folly  as  well  as  of  his  depravity — his  ridiculous  mock  campaigns — 
the  temples  he  erected  in  honor  of  himself,  where,  in  the  charac- 
ter of  his  own  priest,  he  offered  sacrifices  to  himself,  sometimes  as 
Jupiter,  and  sometimes  as  Juno.  One  day  he  chose  to  be  Mer- 
cury, the  next  he  was  Bacchus  or  Hercules.  At  last,  in  the  fourth 
year  of  his  reign,  tiiis  monster  met  with  the  fate  which  he  deserved, 
and  was  assassinated  by  Choreas,  a  tribune  of  the  praetorian 
guards,  in  the  twenty-ninth  year  of  his  age. 

The  great  body  of  the  Roman  people  and  of  the  senate  would 
■  ow  have  gladly  preferred  the  restoration  of  the  republic  to  the 
continuance  of  the  empire  ;  but  the  soldiers,  who  were  all  pow- 
erful, preferred  a  military  government  under  an  emperor,  over 
whom  they  begun  now  to  discover  that  they  could  have  unlimited 
command.  At  the  time  when  Caligula  "was  put  to  death,  Clau- 
dius, his  uncle,  and  the  brother  of  Germanicus,  a  man  whose  weak 
and  childish  disposition  had  never  cherished  an  ambitious  thought, 
had  concealed  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  palace  for  fear  of  assas- 
sination. A  soldier  accidentally  discovering  his  retreat,  saluted 
him  emperor.  Whilst  Claudius  was  tremblingly  begging  his  life 
to  be  spared,  some  others  coming  up,  they  put  him  in  a  litter  and 
carried  him  to  the  camp  of  the  praetorian  guards.  There,  as  yet 
afraid,  and  uncertain  of  his  fate,  he  promised  to  each  of  the  soldiers 
a  large  gratification,  and  received  in  return  their  oaths  of  allegiance. 
The  people  approved  the  choice,  and  the  senate  was  obliged  to 
confirm  it.  Thus  was  the  empire  hoxight  for  the  first  time — a 
practice  which  we  shall  see  become  in  future  extremely  common. 

Claudius  at  the  age  of  fifty  was  still  a  child  :  his  countenance 
was  that  of  an  idiot,  and  his  mind,  naturally  weak,  had  never  re- 
ceived tne  smallest  tincture  of  education.  He  was  the  son  of 
Octavia,  the  sister  of  Augustus  ;  but  as  he  had  never  been  adopted, 
he  did  not  belong  to  the  family  which  carried  the  names  of  Cassar 
and  of  Augustus.  He  assumed,  however,  both  ;  and  they  were 
nenceforth  considered  as  titles  annexed  to  the  imperial  power— 


CH.   I.]  CLAUDIUS.  495 

the  reigning  emperoi-  being  always  styled  Augustus,  and  liis  ap- 
pointed successor  honored   with  the  title  of  Caesar. 

Claudius  knew  that,  to  become  popular,  lie  ought  to  go  counter 
to  every  measure  of  his  predecessor.  He  began,  therefore,  by 
abolishing  most  of  his  laws.  He  passed  an  act  of  oblivion  for  all 
former  oli'ences  against  the  state,  and  he  aj)peared  for  awhile  to 
bend  his  whole  attention  to  the  strict  administration  of  justice  and 
the  establishment  of  good  order.  He  even  began  to  show  symj)- 
toms  of  an  enterprising  disposition,  which  was  quite  opposite  to  all 
ideas  w  hich  had  hocn  formed  of  his  character  from  the  tenor  of  his 
past  life;  and  he  undertook  to  reduce  Britain  under  subjection  to 
ihe  Roman  arnis,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  Tacitus,  Julius  Cx'sar 
had  railier  pointed  out  than  concjuered.  He  accordingly  sent 
thither  Plauiius,  one  of  his  generals,  and  encouraged  by  his  suc- 
cess, was  induced  afterwards  to  go  thiiher  in  person.  But  this 
was  entirely  an  expedition  of  show  and  parade.  He  remained  but 
sixteen  days  in  the  island,  leaving  his  lieutenants  Plautius  and 
Vespasian  to  prosecute  the  war,  whicii  continued  with  various 
success  for  many  years.  The  Silures  or  inhabitants  of  South 
Wales,  under  their  king  Caradoc  or  Caractacns,  made  a  most 
powerful  and  obstinate  resistance.  This  warlike  prince,  with 
great  address  and  military  skill,  contrived  to  remove  the  seat  of 
war  into  the  most  inaccessible  parts  of  the  country,  and  for  nine 
years  the  Romans  saw  no  prospect  of  reducing  this  courageous 
people  to  subjection.  At  length,  in  one  unfortunate  engagement, 
the  Britons  were  entirely  defeated;  the  wife  and  daughter  of 
Caractacns  were  taken  prisoners;  and  this  brave  man  was  after- 
wards treacherously  delivered  to  the  Romans  by  Cartismandua, 
queen  of  the  Brigantes,  in  w  hose  territories  he  had  sought  ri'fuge. 
He  was  soon  after  conducted  to  Rome,  where  he  displayed  that 
noble  sjjirit  which  attracted  from  all  who  beheld  him,  at  once  their 
respect  and  admiration.  In  passing  through  the  streets  of  that 
sumptuous  capital,  and  observing  the  splendor  of  all  the  objects 
around  him,  ''Alas!"  exclaimed  he,  "  is  it  |)Obsiblc  that  liiey  who 
possess  such  magnificence  at  home  should  envy  Caractacus  his 
poor  cottage  in  Britain.'"'  He  apfxiarcd  undismayed  before  tlio 
tribunal  of  the  emperor,  and  allhough  Ik;  dl.-dained  here  to  sue  for 
parilon  or  for  mercy,  yet  he  was  willing  for  the  good  of  his  people 
to  accept  of  it;  and  Claudius,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  treated 
him  with  a  generous  lunnanily. 

The  commencement  of  this  reign  promiscil  extremely  well; 
but  what  possible  dependence  could  there  be  on  a  man  so  weak 
as  to  be  guided  by  the  lowest  ofiicers  of  his  court.  The  servants 
and  the  freedmen  of  Claudius  had  such  an  ascendency  over  him, 
that  they  obtained  from  him  olfices  of  the  utmost  imporlanco 
in  the  empire.  The  meanest  of  his  domestics  were  appointed 
udges  in  tlie  dilTerent  tribunals,  and  governors  of  the  provinces. 

hese  dishonorable  and  avaricious  wretches  reduced  peculation  to 


^' 


WQ  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [nOOK  V 

a  system,  niul  filled  every  corner  of  the  empire  wiili  loud  com- 
))I;iii)ts  ol' ihcir  ra[)i(ie  :ind  cxtoriion.  Mcssiilina,  also,  the  vicious 
and  iihaiidoiied  wife  of  Claudius,  urged  him  on  to  various  acts  of 
injnsiice  and  cruelly.  This  woman  was  infamous  for  all  manner 
of  vices.  Her  debaucheries,  which  were  quite  notorious  in  Rome, 
exceed  all  belief;  but,  what  is  the  most  sur|)rising  part  of  her 
chaiarier,  she  had  the  address  to  pass  widi  Claudius,  as  a  paragon 
of  virtue.  She  at  length,  however,  i)roceeded  to  that  height  of 
efTiontery,  that  during  a  short  absence  of  Claudius  she  j)ublicly 
marri(Ml  C<iius  Silius,  and  upon  the  emperor's  return,  made  him, 
by  way  of  jest,  to  sign  the  marriage  contract.  Narcissus,  his  freed- 
man,  soon  mack,'  him  sensible  that  the  matter  was  too  serious, 
by  informing  him  that  the  people  no  longer  looked  upon  him 
as  emperor:  utterly  unable  to  act  for  himself,  he  now  entreated 
that  Narcissus  would  take  any  steps  he  judged  best  for  his  inter- 
est; and  his  favorite,  thus  invested  with  authority,  immediately 
secured  the  praetorian  guards,  and  caused  Messalina  and  Silius  her 
gallant  to  be  put  to  death.  Claudius  now,  ])y  the  advice  of  his 
faithful  counsellors,  his  frecdmen,  married  his  niece  Agrippina, 
the  daughter  of  Germanicus,  4  woman  equally  vicious  as  Messa- 
lina, and  more  daring  in  her  crimes.  Her  favorite  object  was  to 
secure  the  enqjire  for  her  son  Domitius  .^nobarbus;  and,  to  gain 
the  freedmen  to  her  interest,  she  made  no  scruple  to  prostitute 
herself  to  them.  In  the  prosecution  of  her  scheme  she  enq)loyed 
banishment,  poison,  miu'der — every  different  engine  of  vice  and 
inhumanity.  She  obliged  Octavia,  the  emperor's  daughter,  to 
marry  Domitius,  whom  she  now  made  Claudius  adopt,  to  the 
prejudice  of  his  son  Britannicus;  and  Domitius  was  hailed  Ca:;sar, 
with  the  titles  of  JVero  Claudiii<t  Civsar  Drusiis  Germanicus. 
She  gave  him  for  his  preceptor  Seneca,  the  Stoic  philosopher, 
from  whose  instructions  he  reaped  no  other  benefit  than  an  osten- 
tatious display  of  taste  and  erudition,  without  possessing  any  tinc- 
ture of  either.  Agrippina,  having  by  these  complicated  ciimes 
paved  the  way  for  the  succession  of  her  son  to  the  throne,  now 
thought  proper  to  make  way  for  him  by  poisoning  her  husband; 
and  Claudius,  after  a  reign  of  fourteen  years,  was  thus  carried 
off  at  the  age  of  sixty-three. 

The  succession  of  Nero  was  immediate.  The  captain  of  the 
praetorian  guards  presented  him  to  the  soldiers;  he  promised  them 
a  considerable  donative,  and  in  return  was  proclaimed  emperor — 
the  senate,  with  their  usual  passive  compliance,  confirming  the 
choice.  Nero  began,  like  some  of  his  predecessors,  upon  a  good 
plan,  but  unfortunately  it  was  not  his  own.  His  preceptor,  the 
celebrated  Seneca,  liad  acquired  such  influence  over  him,  that  the 
first  few  years  of  hie  reign  promised  a  revival  of  the  times  of  Au- 
gustus; but  his  natural  disposition  could  no  longer  be  restrained. 
With  Seneca,  who  prompted  his  decrees  and  kept  him  witiiin 
the   bounds    of  moderation,    he  appeared    in   public    a   wise  and 


en.  I.J  ni:ro.  48'' 

amiable  prince,  yd  at  this  very  time  it  was  his  favorite  amuse- 
ment to  range  through  tlie  streets  of  Rome  witli  a  band  of  voung 
del)aiichees,  who  indulged  themselves  in  every  species  of  outrage 
and  disorder.  His  natural  disposition  first  publicly  showed  itself  in 
an  indolent  neglect  of  all  the  cares  of  government  ;  and  his  mother, 
Agrippina,  took  advantage  of  this  disposition  by  ruling  every  thing 
as  she  chose.  Seneca  warned  h'n  pupil  of  the  danger  of  allowing 
free  course  to  the  views  of  this  amhitious  and  unprincipled  wo« 
man,  and  his  first  step  was  to  dismiss  from  the  court  her  chief 
favorites  and  confidants.  The  violence  of  Agrippnia  prompted 
her  to  seek  an  outrageous  revenge.  She  proposed  to  bring  Brit- 
annicus  to  the  praetorian  bands,  and  to  acknowledge  before  them 
the  crimes  she  had  committed  to  place  Nero  on  the  throne.  The 
emperor  prevented  the  execution  of  this  purpose  by  poisoning 
Britannicus,  while  he  sat  at  supper  with  liimself;  but  he  sought 
against  his  mother  a  more  refined  vengeance.  She  was  invited  to 
Baia;,  to  celebrate  the  feast  of  Bacchus.  The  ship  in  which  she 
sailed  was  constructed  in  such  a  manner  as  to  burst  and  fall  to 
pieces  at  sea  ;  but  the  machinery  failed,  and  Agrippina  came  safe 
ashore.  Nero,  enraged  at  the  di-^appointmenl  of  his  stratagem,  or- 
dered one  of  his  freedinen  to  assassinate  her. 

As  he  was  now  rid  of  those  anxieties  which  arose  from  his 
dread  of  the  designs  of  Agrippina,  and  had  nothing  material  to 
occujiy  his  mind,  (for  he  disdained  the  proper  cares  of  em|)ire,) 
ho  gave  a  loose  to  the  meanest  and  most  vicious  passions.  He 
prompted  the  young  nobility  to  exhibit  themselves  as  actors  upon 
the  stage  ;  he  forced  the  Roman  knights  to  fight,  like  gladiators, 
in  the  arena  ;  and  in  these  di^grace'ul  amusements  bo  bore  him- 
self a  principal  part.  Burrhus,  the  captain  of  the  prpctorian 
guards,  a  man  of  talents  and  of  virtue — although  at  times,  he  had 
appeared  to  show  too  much  compliance  with  the  will  of  his  master^ 
wa-;  not,  in  the  opinion  of  Nero,  sufficiently  obsequious,  and  was 
therefore  removed  by  poison.  Upon  his  dnath,  Seneca,  who  lost 
a  j)owerful  fiiend,  retired  from  the  court.  Nero  had  no  longer  any 
around  him  but  the  profligate  and  abandoned  like  himself.  Pop- 
pa;a,  a  woman  of  great  beauty,  but  abandoned  morals,  bad  been 
seduced  from  her  husband  by  Otho,  who  in  his  turn  prostituted 
her  to  the  emperor,  to  serve  bis  own  purposes  of  ambition.  She 
soon  gained  such  an  ascendency  over  Nero,  that  be  was  induced  to 
divorce  his  wife  Octavia  to  make  way  for  her  to  the  throne ;  and 
such  was,  at  this  time,  the  infamous  servility  of  the  Roman  sen- 
ate, that  a  pant^gyric  was  pronounced  in  praise  of  thn  em|>eror, 
and  a  deputation  sent  to  congratulate  him  on   this  auspicious  event. 

A   cotis|iirary,  which  was   at   this   time  discovered,  gave   Nero 
ample  sro])e  for  the  gratification   of  the   natural  cruelty  of  his   dis 
position.      The  slightest  suspicion  of  guilt  was   now  punished  m\h 
immediate  death.      It  was  a   sufllcient  crime  if  a  man  was  seen  to 
have  saluted   a  su-^pected    person.     Seneca,  amongst  others,  w«i 


488  uMVF.asAL  history.  [nooK  v 

accused  of  having  been  privy  to  this  conspiracy;  and  as  a  mark  of 
the  enij)eror's  gratititude  for  the  past  services  of  his  preceptor,  ho 
was  pcrniiiicd  to  choose  the  manner  of  liis  death.  He  chose  to 
expire  in  a  warm  baih,  after  having  his  veins  opened. 

Nero,  intoxicated  wiih  his  own  accomplislimcnts  as  a  gladiator 
and  combatant  in  the  arena,  was  not  content  with  the  applause  of 
Rome  :  he  determined  now  to  show  himself  in  Greece,  where  he 
contended  for,  and  consequently  gained,  the  jirize  at  the  Olympic 
and  Pythian  games.  On  liis  return  to  the  Capitol  he  celebrated 
a  splendid  triumph,  where  he  commanded  himself  to  be  hailed  by 
the  titles  of  Hercules  and  Apollo. 

It  becomes  painful  to  enumerate  a  long  series  of  extravagant 
instances  of  every  variety  of  vice,  and  multiplied  examples  of  the 
most  complicated  and  capricious  cruelty.  The  tyranny  of  this 
monster  at  length  found  an  end  Vindex,  an  illustrious  Gaul,  by 
his  interest  with  his  countrymen  as  propra?tor,  excited  them  to  a 
general  revolt.  He  offered  the  empire  to  Galba,  then  governor  of 
Spain,  who  took  upon  himself  the  title  of  Lieutenant  of  the  Sen- 
ate and  People  of  Rome.  The  provinces  declared  in  his  favor. 
Rome  was  divided,  and  at  length  the  party  of  Vindex  prevailed. 
Nero,  abandoned  by  his  guards,  was  obliged  to  conceal  himself  in 
the  house  of  one  of  his  freedmen.  The  senate  proclaimed  him 
an  enemy  to  his  country,  and  condemned  him  to  die  more  majo- 
rum ;  that  is,  to  be  scourged,  thrown  from  the  Tarpeian  rock,  and 
then  flung  into  the  Tiber.  Unable  to  bear  the  thoughts  of  such  a 
death,  Nero  tried  the  points  of  two  daggers,  but  wanted  courage 
to  die  by  his  own  hand.  He  entreated  the  aid  of  one  of  his  slaves, 
who  was  not  slow  in  the  performance  of  that  friendly  office,  and 
was,  in  this  manner  put  to  death,  after  a  reign  of  fourteen  years, 
in  the  thirtiedi  year  of  his  age  ;  a  character  happily  difficult  to  be 
paralleled  in  the  annals  of  human  nature. 

In  the  time  of  the  civil  wars,  the  generals  of  the  republic  were 
certain  of  the  obedience  of  their  troops.  They  were  devoted  to 
their  chiefs,  and  although  expecting  a  recon)pense,  they  never 
dared  to  claim  it  as  their  due.  Things  had  now  entirely  changed 
A  long  state  of  servitude  had  annihilated  every  generous  senti' 
ment.  Even  the  names  of  the  ancient  Roiuan  families  were  lost 
The  soldiers  now  saw  nothing  in  Rome  but  a  despicable  sen* 
ate,  a  servile  populace,  and  immense  riches — of  which  last  they 
soon  found  that  they  were  the  supreme  disposers.  The  pra?torian 
guards  had  now  every  thing  at  their  command.  Galba  was  of  an 
ancient  and  illustrious  family.  He  had  conducted  himself  honor- 
ably in  the  government  of  several  of  the  provinces,  but  old  age 
had  unfortunately  turned  to  avarice  a  disposition  naturally  econom- 
ical, and  his  manners,  rigid  from  his  life  and  constitution,  were  now 
become  severe  and  cruel.  He  was  seventy-three  years  of  age 
when  he  was  proclaimed  emperor.  He  had  scarcely  arrived  in 
Italv,  when  his   conduct  entirely  alienated    the    affections  of  the 


A     D.   69.]  G.VLBA OTllO.  489 

army  to  whom  he  owed  his  elevation.  He  disappointed  ihem  of 
the  reward  they  expected,  telling  tlieni  that  an  emperor  should 
choose  his  soldiers,  and  not  purcha.;e  them.  The  people  too,  who, 
in  the  time  of  Nero,  had  heen  constuntiy  amused  with  games  and 
public  shows,  could  not  easily  brook  tiie  loss  of  their  favorite  spec- 
tacles. In  other  instances  the  new  emperor  scrupled  not  to  add 
injustice  to  his  imprudence.  Without  ihe  form  of  a  trial,  he 
stripped  many  of  the  richest  citizens  of  their  fortunes,  on  pretence 
of  their  having  been  improperly  acquired  uader  Nero. 

The  army  in  Germany  were  the  first  Jo  evince  a  spirit  of  dis* 
affection  and  mutiny,  and  openly  express<?'l  iheir  desire  of  elect- 
ing another  emperor.  Galba  began  to  f(>p|  his  own  weakness, 
and  to  be  sensible  that  his  favorite  passion  h-i'l  impelled  him  into 
a  wrong  course.  He  wished  to  find  a  sui)port  '«o  ilie  abilities  and 
talents  of  the  young  Piso,  who  was  distinguished  t>otn  by  his  illus- 
trious birdi  and  by  his  eminent  virtues.  He  adnmea  him,  there- 
fore, as  his  son,  and  destined  him  to  be  his  successor  m  die  empire  ; 
but,  unfortunately  for  the  public  welfare,  this  me3<»'ue  came  too 
late.  Otho,  the  husband  of  Popp^ea,  and  the  rival  oi  Piso,  was 
of  a  character  as  decidedly  infamous  as  the  other  was  tuOv  respect- 
able. He  was  jealous  of  the  destined  honors  of  Piso,  ?va  deter- 
mined to  risk  every  thing  to  destroy  him.  He  was  immersed  m  debt, 
and  had  no  means  of  escaj)ing  ruin  but  by  some  desperate  c>tiempt. 
It  was  to  him  a  matter  of  indifference,  he  used  to  declare,  liow  he 
died— whether  by  the  sword  of  tiie  enemy  or  the  hand  nj  Iikj 
executioner.  With  this  genius,  and  in  such  a  disposition  of  ni'uu. 
it  was  not  surprising  that  he  should  harbor  schemes  of  thr-  higher*- 
and  most  daring  import.  He  flattered  his  partisans  by  telling  theiv 
that  certain  wise  astrologers  had  given  him  a  promise  of  the  em- 
pire ;  and,  as  the  securest  engine  of  policy,  he  was  lavish  of  ha 
jji-omises  to  the  soldiers.  He  prevailed  upon  some  of  the  boldest 
of  the  guards  to  take  the  active  part  in  accomplishing  his  designs. 
On  a  day  appointed,  they  carried  him  to  the  pr:etorian  camp. 
where  he  was  proclaimed  emjieror.  Galba  and  Piso  were  botb 
murdered  in  attempting  to  (jucll  the  tumult,  and  their  heads  were 
presented  to  Otho,  who,  it  is  said,  gave  early  d(^monstrations  of 
his  sanguinary  dispo:iition  by  the  exultation  with  which  he  received 
them.  Galba  had  only  reigned  for  the  short  sjjace  of  seven 
months. 

Otho,  although  he  had  found  it  an  easy  matter  to  induce  the 
senate  to  confirm  the  election  of  the  soldiers,  was  not  without  a 
competitor  for  the  empire.  Before  the  murder  of  Galba,  Viiellius, 
who  commanded  in  Germany,  had  been  proclaimed  emperor  by 
his  troops.  He  had  arrived  at  authority  by  the  same  means  as 
Otho,  with  a  character,  if  possible,  yet  more  deeply  infamous. 
He,  jmssessed  himself,  no  military  talents  ;  but  this  waul  was  sup- 
plied by  the  abilities  of  his  generals,  C.Tcina  and  VaU-im.  The 
art  of  war,  during  the  long  peace  which  had  continued,  with  little 
VOL   I.  62 


4'JO  universal  iiisToiiy.  book  v 

intermission,  since  the  accession  of  Augustus,  was  now,  in  some 
measure,  lost  iu  Italy.  The  })raitorian  guards  were  lazy,  licentious, 
ignorant  of  their  (iuiy,  and  completely  debauched  by  the  succes- 
sive doiiaiivei  of  the  emperors.  It  was  no  wonder  liiai  th.e  aj)pre- 
Iiension  of  a  civil  war  should  have  struck  terror  into  the  breasts  of 
all  who  deserved  the  name  of  Roman  citizens.  They  had  no 
heroes  to  look  to  for  their  commanders — no  troops  animated,  as 
f)rmcrly,  by  the  love  of  glory  and  of  their  country.  There 
existed,  however,  many  degrad-ed  and  desperate  men,  who  were 
pleased  with  this  prospect,  in  the  hopes  of  profiling  by  the  public 
ruin  :  whilst  those  cowardly  minds,  which  composed  the  bulk  of 
the  citizens,  were  depressed  with  fear,  or  sunk  in  indolence  and 
despondency. 

Vitelliiis  was  at  first  unsuccessful  in  his  pretensions  to  the  em- 
pire. Ca}cina  and  Valens  did  not  act  in  concert  ;  and  Otho,  had 
he  possessed  one  spark  of  Roman  spirit,  would  have  found  it  easy 
to  crush  his  rival  in  the  beginning.  He  was  resolved,  at  length, 
to  hazard  a  decisive  battle,  but  he  had  not  courage  to  head  the 
troops  in  person.  His  army  was  defeated  at  Bedriacum,  between 
Mantua  and  Cremona,  where  above  forty  thousand  men  fell  on 
each  side.  Otho  might  still  have  retrieved  matters.  Since  his 
accession  he  had  ingratiated  himself  wid)  the  soldiers,  who  earn- 
estly urged  him  to  continue  the  war.  He  had  even  gained,  by 
an  appearance  of  moderation,  some  affection  from  the  people  ;  and 
with  these  supports  he  might  yet,  by  one  vigorous  effort,  have 
foiled  his  ambitious  rival.  But  despair  had  taken  possession  of 
him  :  his  resolution  was  fixed,  and  no  persuasion  could  alter  it. 
For  ibis  resolution  he  assigned  those  generous  motives  of  prevent 
ing  the  cfllislon  of  blood,  and  preserving  the  lives  of  his  subjects  ; 
for  which,  unfortunately,  the  tenor  of  his  former  life  wil^  hardly 
permit  us  to  give  him  credit.  It  must  be  owned,  however, 
tliat  his  death  was  heroical.  He  gave  his  last  orders  with  the 
utmost  composure,  provided  as  well  as  he  could  for  the  safety  of 
his  friends,  whom  he  entreated  to  make  a  timely  submission  to  the 
conqueror  ;  like  Cato,  went  to  rest,  slept  with  tranquillity,  and, 
on  awakening,  fell  upon  his  own  sword.  He  had  reigned  for  three 
months  with  considerable  moderation,  but  the  known  vices  of  iiis 
character  gave  too  much  reason  to  believe  that  this  short  period 
of  good  administration  would  have  been  like  the  deceitful  prelude 
of  Nero. 

Rome  was  now  in  the  hands  of  a  brutal  tyrant,  who  affected  no 
disguise  to  conceal  his  natural  disposition.  Vitellius  was  aban- 
doned to  every  species  of  vicious  debauchery.  It  is  sufficient  to 
paint  his  character  to  say,  thnt  he  expressed  a  most  devoted  regard 
for  the  memory  of  Mro.  Fortunately,  this  reign  was  not  of  long 
continuance. 

Vespasian,  a  man  of  obscure  family,  but  possessed  of  strong 
native  talents,  had  raised  liimself  by  servile  offices  under  Caligula 


A.    D.   63. \  VESPASIAV.  491 

and  Claurliiis,  and  had  at  leiiglli  arrived  at  tlic  consu  ship.  Under 
Nero  he  had  obtained  the  command  of  the  army  in  the  wai  n;:ainst 
the  Jews,  and  liad  condncted  it  with  cf|ual  courage  and  ability. 
The  legions  he  coiiiinanded  in  the  East  taking  ofTcnce^  very 
naturally,  when  they  perceived  their  fellow-soldiers  dis|)osiMg  o! 
the  emj)ire  at  pleasure,  and  enjoying  in  ease  all  the  fruits  of  tins 
exercise  of  power,  thougii:  it  tiiue  for  themsehcs,  in  their  turn,  to 
choose  an  emperor.  Vespasian  was  persuaded  by  Mucianus,  the 
governor  of  Syria,  to  offer  himself  a  candidate,  on  the  usual  tcnriS 
of  a  large  donative.  Tne  soldiers  proclaimed  him,  and  he  was 
immediately  acknowlcdg'^d  over  a.I  the  East.  A  great  p;irt  of 
Italy  subnjittsd  t?  h.s  r.enpra.s;  and  Vitellius,  within  a  few  months 
of  his  succession,  saw  himsdf  reduced  to  the  alternative  of  resign- 
ing the  empire^  or  of  dv"ng  liice  his  predecessor.  He  chose  the 
former,  and  imnicdiately  cor.c  ui?jd  a  shameful  treaty  with  Sabi- 
nus,  the  brother  of  Vespasian,  then  prefect  of  Rome,  by  which  lie 
saved  his  life;  obtainui2;,  m  return  for  his  resignation  of  die  empire, 
the  liberty  of  retiring  to  Campania,  with  a  considerable  yearly 
pension.  This  treaty  tne  dastardly  emp.ror  read  himself  to  t!io 
people,  crying  all  the  wniie  like  a  child.  He  then  submissively 
prepared  to  strip  himself  of  all  the  ensigns  of  authority.  The 
spirit  of  the  citizens  was  roused  at  this  self-degradation.  They 
compelled  him  to  return  to  his  palace,  and  attacked  the  party  of 
Sabinus,  who  retired  to  the  Capitol.  They  burnt  down  the  tem- 
ple of  Jupiter,  seized  Sabinus,  and  put  him  to  death  at  (he  feet  of 
Vitellius.  In  the  meanwhile  Priscus,  one  of  the  generals  of  Ves- 
pasian, arriving  wiUi  his  army  at  the  very  time  when  the  whole 
city  was  employed  in  the  cciebration  of  the  Satiunalia,  took  imme- 
diate possession,  without  any  opposition.  Neither  die  considera- 
tion of  glory  nor  of  safety  were  sufficient  to  call  ofT  the  minds  of 
this  miserable  and  degraded  peo|)le  from  their  favorite  amusements. 
Vitellius  was  found  conceuled  in  the  cnambcr  of  a  slave.  He  was 
brought  into  the  forum  with  a  rope  about  hi?  nock,  loaded  with 
reproaches,  and  ignominiously  put  to  death,  in  the  eighth  montn 
of  his  reign. 

Vespasian  was  anions;  tnoso  few  princes  whose  character  has 
changed  for  the  better  on  their  arrival  at  empire.  Augustus,  from 
a  vicious  and  cruel  man,  oecaine,  ii'  not  a  virtuous,  in  many 
respects  an  admirable  prince.  Vespasian  had  ingratiated  liimsolf 
by  the  most  servile  flattery  with  Caligu.a  and  Claudius,  and  raised 
himself  oy  degrees  from  the  meanest  station  to  rank  and  distinc- 
tion. His  character.  i,vaovc  fic  came  to  the  empire,  was  at  the 
best  an  equivocal  one;  but  no  sooner  did  he  mount  the  throne, 
than  all  these  suspicions  were  at  once  shown  to  be  uiifounded. 
He  gave  a  general  pardon  to  all  who  had  been  found  in  arms 
against  him.  He  allowed  every  citizen,  provided  he  spoke  only 
of  his  own  grievances,  to  have  free  access  to  his  person,  but  de- 
clared war    against  that  vile  race  of   jiensioncd    informers,   whicli 


492  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [ 

had  intiltiplicd  so  exceedingly  during  the  preceding  reigns. 
manners  were  simole,  but  his  administration  evinced  both  vi 
and  discernment.  It  was  his  custom  every  summer,  when  he 
could  procure  a  respite  from  the  busy  scenes  of  the  state,  to  retire 
to  a  small  country  house  he  had  at  Reti,  where  his  mother  lived, 
where  he  had  been  himself  born,  and  which  he  took  a  pleasure  to 
preseive  in  the  same  humble  appearance  in  which  he  had  known  it 
m  the  days  of  his  infancy.  Under  this  reign,  the  senate,  had  any 
ancient  virtue  remained  in  that  body  or  in  Rome,  might  have 
recovered  its  former  lustre.  Vespasian  communicated  all  affairs 
to  that  body.  He  also,  in  conjunction  with  his  son  Titus,  aj)plied 
himself  to  complete  the  number  of  the  senators,  as  well  as  that  ol 
the  Roman  knights,  which  body  had  been  diminished,  and  almost 
exterminated,  by  the  tyranny  of  his  predecessors. 

The  avarice  of  Vespasian  is  the  only  vice  which  sullies  his  im 
perial  character.  He  renewed  many  of  the  most  odious  of  the 
taxes  of  Galba,  and  added  some  others  equally  grievous;  and  yet 
the  low  state  of  the  public  funds,  and  the  laudable  purposes  to 
which  he  uniformly  applied  the  public  money,  may  perhaps  form 
some  apology  for  this  single  vice.  Under  this  reign  was  termi- 
nated the  war  with  the  Jews.  They  had  been  brought  under  \ha 
Roman  yoke  by  Pompey,  who  had  taken  Jerusalem  ;  under 
Augustus  they  were  for  some  time  governed  by  Herod  as  viceroy, 
but  the  tyranny  of  his  son  Archelaus  provoked  Augustus  to  banish 
him,  and  to  reduce  Judasa  into  the  ordinary  state  of  a  Roman 
province.  The  stubborn  character  of  that  people  was  ill  fitted  for 
obedience  to  governors  whose  religion  they  held  in  abhorrence. 
They  were  continually  rebelling  on  the  slightest  occasion.  Nero 
had.  sent  Vespasian  to  reduce  them  into  order,  and  he  had  com- 
pleted the  subjugation  of  the  whole  country  except  the  capital, 
when  he  was  summoned  to  the  cares  of  empire.  He  left  the 
chai'ge.  of  the  war  to  his  son  Titus,  who  concluded  it  by  the  taking 
of  Jerusalem.  That  ill-fated  city,  whose  ruin, — doomed  by  the 
Almighty,  and  predicted  by  prophets, — was  accomplished  rather 
oy  the  intemperate  zeal  and  inflexible  obstinacy  of  its  inhabitants 
ilian  by  the  arms  of  its  enemies,  was  carried  by  storm,  after  every 
means  had  been  in  vain  tried  by  the  humane  Titus  to  persuade 
the  Jews  to  surrender.  The  temple  was  burnt  to  ashes,  and  the 
city  buried  in  ruins. 

Vespasian  now  shut  the  temple  of  Janus,  and  associated  his  son 
Titus  with  himself  in  power.  He  conferred  upon  him  the  com- 
mand of  the  praetorian  guards,  and  employed  him  as  his  counsellor 
and  first  minister.  xVt  the  age  of  sixty-nine  he  began  to  feel  the 
approaches  of  his  decay,  and  falling  sick,  retired  to  his  little  coun- 
try-seat at  Reti,  where,  although  sensible  that  his  death  was  near, 
he  continued  still  to  occupy  himself  uninterruptedly  with  the  cares 
of  government.  An  emperor,  he  said,  ought  to  the  standing,  and 
thus  in  truth  died  Vespasian,  after  a  prosperous  and  able  reign  of 
sine  years  and  eleven  months. 


i.     D.   80.]  TITLS HERCLI.ANEL-.M,    ECT.  493 

Ilis  son  Titus  had  early  evinced  the  most  favorable  dispositions. 
The  abilities  of  his  mind  were  efjiial  to  his  personal  accomplish- 
ments, and  the  qualities  of  his  heart  were  inferior  to  neither.  He 
seemed  born  to  form  the  happiness  of  his  people.  He  possessed 
heroism  sufficient  to  have  revived  the  ancient  splendor  of  the 
Uonjans,  and  that  tempered  with  a  humanity  and  moderation 
uhicli  are  but  too  rarely  its  attendants.  Such  was  certainly  his 
genuine  character;  for  those  who  mention  a  few  follies  of  his  youth, 
as  the  indications  of  a  vicious  disposition,  should  remember  what 
were  the  manners  of  the  courts  of  Claudius  and  Nero  in  which  he 
received  his  education.  The  intemperate  follies  of  youth  were 
Boon  abandoned  for  the  care  of  his  jjcople,  whose  hap|jiness  became, 
from  the  moment  of  accession,  his  only  study.  He  removed  from 
all  employrnenls  such  as  were  of  a  dubious  or  dislionorahle  char- 
acter, lie  continued  in  office  every  man  of  virtue  wh^m  his  father 
had  employed.  Yet,  with  the  strictness  of  moral  feeling  where  it 
might  conduce  to  the  welfare  of  his  people,  his  temper  was  f;ir 
from  being  rigid.  He  knew  the  taste  of  the  nation  for  their  favor- 
ite amusements,  and  the  amphitheatre  which  he  built  was  of  mag- 
nificence suitable  to  the  grandeur  of  the  em])ire. 

In  the  first  year  of  the  reign  of  Titus,  happened  that  most 
remarkable  ernj)tion  of  Mount  Vesuvius  which  overwhelmed  the 
cities  of  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii,  and  in  which  the  elder  Pliny 
lost  his  life,  from  an  earnest  curiosity  to  be  a  near  witness  of  that 
striking  spectacle.  He  had  determined  to  embellish  his  Natural 
History  with  a  description  of  that  most  interesting  phenomenon, 
and  for  this  purpose  rushed  eagerly  into  that  situation  of  danger 
from  which  others  were  as  eagerly  attempting  to  escape.  He  was 
there  suffocated  by  a  cloud  of  suI|-)hureous  va|ior.  His  nephew, 
*.he  younger  Pliny,  has  given  a  vivid  dcscri]ition  of  this  remarkable 
scene,  in  a  letter  to  Tacitus  the  historian,  (lib.  vi.  epist.  If).)  Of 
the  cliaracter  of  his  uncle,  he  says,  with  justice,  "  Equidem  heaios 
puto  qnibus  deorum  munere  datum  est  aut  facere  scribenda,  aut 
scribere  legenda.  Beatissimos  vero  quibus  utrumque  ;  I'orum  n 
numcro  avunculus  meus."*  The  desolation  of  Campania,  occa- 
sioned by  this  terrible  eruption  of  Vesuvius,  was  remedied  to  (he 
utmost  by  the  beneficence  of  Titus,  who  set  apart  large  funds  for 
the  relief  of  the  sufferers.  In  order  to  judge  of  their  'osses,  he 
went  himself  to  Campania,  and  by  a  kind  of  fatality,  whilst  absent 
on  this  benevolent  ex|)edition,  a  fire,  which  broke  out  in  the  city, 
desolated  a  great  jiart  of  Rome.  The  losses  occt.£"cred  to  his 
subjects,*  by  these  reiterated  calamities,  he  repaired  at  his  own 
charges,  not  from  the  public  money,  which  is  generally  the  treasury 


"  "  I  esteem  those  the  truly  happy  oC  nimkiml  to  whom  the  po<ts  hove 
allotted  either  to  do  thinrrs  worthy  or  iK^inrr  written,  or  to  write  thinjjs  worthy 
of  Ik- in c  read.  Tlie  hapi>ie.-<t  are  they  who  have  done  both;  anil  amon(j  thoaa 
was  my  relative." 


494  »  UNIViillSAL     HISTORY  [hOOK    V 

* 

of  llie  jirincc's  bounties,  but  from  the  sale  of  Uic  sii[)crniioiis 
oniaiuciit.s  and  riclics  of  bis  palaces.  Tims  ibis  virtuous  prince 
occupied  liiuiself  by  every  means  wbicb  genercjsily  or  benevolence 
could  dict.Ue  in  dillusing  bappiness  amongst  all  classes  of  bis  sub- 
jects, wben,  to  tbeir  unspeakable  regret,  be  was  cut  off  in  tbe  tbird 
year  of  bis  reign.  He  died  at  tbe  age  of  forty,  leaving  bebind  bmi 
ibat  most  merited  and  exalted  epitbct,  Delicim  humani  generis  ; — 
ihe  delight  of  the  human  race. 

T'tus  was  suspected  to  bave  been  poisoned  by  bis  brotli*^.- 
Domitian,  a  cbaracior  in  every  rcsj^ect  tbe  reverse  of  bis.  Thn 
nionsler, — for  sucb  bis  life  declared  bim, — contrived,  like  some  of 
bis  unworiby  predecessors,  for  a  wbile  to  conceal  bis  vices.  H*i 
affected  to  sbovv  a  moderation  and  a  love  of  justice,  wbicb  gave 
promise  of  a  bappy  reign;  but  bis  natural  disposition  soon  unveiJei 
itself.  An  insurrection,  wbicb  bappcned  at  ibat  time  in  Germany, 
gave  bim  an  opportunity  of  satiating  bimself  witb  blood.  The 
rebellion  itself  was  speedily  (]uelled,  but  its  consequences  were 
long  deplored  in  tbe  innumerable  murders  of  tbe  most  respected 
among  tbe  citizens,  for  wbicb  the  bare  suspicion  of  baving  been 
concerned  in  tbe  rebellion  afforded  always  a  sufficient  pretext. 

Informers,  ibat  despicable  brood,  the  scourge  of  men  of  worth, 
began  again  to  swarm  throughout  the  country;  slaves  were  bribed 
to  give  evidence  against  their  masters;  pretenders  to  astrology 
were  appointed  to  draw  the  horoscopes  of  the  principal  citizens, 
the  emperor  ordering  those  to  be  put  to  death  to  whom  fortune 
promised  any  thing  great  or  successful. 

Could  the  people  bave  slept  in  quiet  under  the  constant  dread 
of  a  sentence  of  death,  they  might  have  been  abundantly  gratified 
in  their  darling  amusements  of  games  and  shows.  In  these  the 
new  emperor  squandered  prodigious  stuns;  but  the  expenses  were 
in  truth  furnished  by  the  unhappy  citizens,  whom  he  loaded  witn 
tbe  most  exorbitant  taxes.  It  was  the  lot  of  Domitian,  as  of 
other  tyrants,  to  be  haunted  by  the  continual  dread  of  assassination. 
Fortunately  for  the  wo;|d,  his  fears  were  at  last  realized;  a  con- 
spiracy was  formed  in  the  heart  of  his  palace,  the  empress,  as  is 
said,  conducting  the  plot,  and  be  was  assassinated  after  a  cruel 
and  inglorious  reign  of  fifteen  years.  Under  this  reign  flourished 
Maitial  the  cpigramist,  from  w'hose  venal  praises  if  we  were  to 
judge  of  the  character  of  Domitian,  we  should  believe  him  one  of 
tbe  best  and  greatest  princes. 

In  the  lime  of  Domitian  the  empire  was  engaged  in  a  variety 
of  wars  ;  the  only  one  of  these  which  ended  honorably  for  the 
Romans  was  that  carried  on  in  Britain.  A  detail  of  its  operations 
belongs  more  properly  to  the  sketch  which  we  shall  have  to  sive 
of  the  earliest  periods  of  the  history  of  our  own  country.  The 
conspirators  who  had  put  to  death  Domitian  raised  Cocceius  Nerva 
to  the  throne.  He  was  born  at  Narni,  in  Umbria,  of  a  Cretan 
family,  and  was  the  first  emperor  who  was  not  a  Roman.      He 


1.   D.   96.  J  DOMITI.V.V NF.RVA.  4)5 

was,  wlion  elected,  approaching  to  ilie  age  of  seventv — a  man, 
certainly,  of  worth  and  virtue,  hut  too  weak  for  the  burden  of 
government.  His  pliant  disposition  permitted  all  excesses.  Un- 
der Doaiiiian  every  thing  was  construed  into  a  crime  ;  under  ilie 
reign  of  Ncrva  nothing.  The  troops  who  were  fond  of  Domitian's 
naemory,  because  he  had  been  lavish  of  his  bounties,  demanded 
that  his  murderers  should  be  punished.  Nerva  had  not  the  reso 
lution  to  refuse,  and  they  put  to  death,  under  his  eyes,  those  ver^ 
persons  who  had  given  him  the  empire.  Conscious  of  Iiis  own 
weakness,  he,  in  order  to  secure  himself  upon  the  throne,  adopted 
the  virtuous  Trajan,  who  was  then  carrying  on  war  in  Panhonia, 
and  had  never  entertained  any  views  of  such  exahation.  Thq 
empire  was  governed  for  some  months  by  Trajan,  till  the  deatli  of 
Nerva,  which  happened  soon  after.  He  had  reigned  only  sixtcon 
months. 

Trajan  was  in  every  respect  worthy  of  the  throne,  for  he  pos- 
sessed all  those  peculiar  talents  and  those  higher  virtues  wliich 
ought  to  adorn  a  sovereign.  He  was  born  of  a  respectable  though 
not  an  ancient  family  : — his  father  had  been  consul.  He  perfectly 
understood  the  art  of  war,  and  he  soon  re-established,  upon  his 
succeeding  to  the  empire,  the  ancient  military  discipline,  which, 
of  late,  had  been  nearly  forgotten.  He  marched  always  on  foot, 
at  the  head  of  his  troops  ;  underwent  every  fa'igue  in  common 
with  them  ;  and  shared  the  same  simjjle  fare.  Under  such  a  gen- 
eral, it  is  no  wonder  the  Roman  arms  should  have  regained  their 
ancient  splendor.  His  first  war  was  against  the  Dacians,  to  whom 
Domitian  had  pusillanimously  subjected  the  empire  to  pay  an  an- 
nual tribute.  Trajan  shook  off  this  shameful  imposition,  and  in  a 
few  campaigns  eniirely  subdued  that  warlike  nation.  A  lasting 
monument  of  his  victories  in  the  Dacian  war  still  remains  in  that 
magnificent  column  at  Rome  which  bears  the  name  of  Trajan,  and 
which  is  decorated  wi;h  his  exploits  in  beautiful  sculpture. 

Chosroes,  king  of  the  Parihians,  had  disposed  of  the  crown  of 
Armenia.  Trajan,  considering  this  as  an  invasion  of  the  rights  of 
the  Roman  empire,  marciierl  against  him,  subilned  his  whole  terri- 
tories, took  his  capital  of  Ctesiphon,  and  broup;ht  under  submis- 
sion Mesopotamia,  Syria,  and  Arabia  Felix.  This  love  of  con- 
quest he,  however,  carried  too  fiir ;  and  it  was  the  more  blamable 
sn  a  prince  who  had  every  requisite  for  rendering  his  people  happy 
under  the  blessings  of  peace.  It  is  said  that  he  regretted  he  was 
not  so  young  as  Alexander,  that  he  might  have  vied  wiiii  him  in 
the  extent  of  his  confpiests.  He  should  have  rather  remembered, 
tiiat  the  empire  wa:^  already  too  large,  and  felt  the  difllculty  of  de- 
fending its  extensive  frontier.  Yet,  innuenccd  as  he  was  by  this 
ruling  passion,  his  attention  to  the  cares  of  government,  and  his 
management  of  all  matters  connected  with  the  state,  were  truly 
admirable.  It  was  customary  for  the  emperor  to  be  named  con- 
sul the  year  following  his  accession.     Trajan  refused  it,  as  he  waj 


49G  UNIVERSAL  msToav.  [nooif  v 

then  at  a  dislancc  in  the  provinces.  On  his  return,  lie  went 
ihrongli  all  the  (brnis  (jf  the  ancient  procedure  for  the  election  of 
magistrates,  with  iIk,'  utmost  scrupulousness.  These  iiad  long 
been  discontinued  by  iiis  predecessors.  He  called  the  comitia,  pre- 
sented himself  as  a  candidate,  and  at  his  election,  besides  the  cus- 
tomary oaths,  he  invoked  the  powers  of  heaven  to  strengthen  him 
in  the  performance  of  his  duty. 

He  was  liberal  in  his  donations  to  the  people,  but  they  were  not, 
like  those  of  other  emperors,  the  mean  bribes  of  a  despot  ;  they 
were  the  largesses  of  a  beneficent  prince,  for  the  support  of  the 
wi'etched  and  indigent.     The  children  of  the  poor  were  educated 
at  his  expense,  and  it  was  computed  that  two  millions  of  destitute 
persons  were  maintained  from  his  private  purse.     These  charges 
were  supplied  by  a  well-ordered  economy  in  his  own  fortune,  and 
a  regular  administration  of  the  public  finances.      He  lived  himself 
always   with  ancient  simplicity,  and  he  enriched   the   state   by   a 
careful  attention    to    the   minutest  articles  of   public    expenditure. 
Under  this  excellent  mode  of  government  every  thing  enjoyed  its 
due  consideration.     The  literary  ornaments  of  the  court  of  Trajan 
were    Pliny  the  younger,  the  poet   Juvenal,  and    those    excellent 
writers,  Tacitus  and  Plutarch.     Their  talents  and  genius  were  en- 
couraged and  liberally  rewarded,  whilst  the  fine  arts  also  were  as- 
siduously cultivated,  and  flourished  under  that  generous  spirit  of 
independence    which    prevailed    throughout    every  branch    of  the 
state.     Trajan  himself,  amidst  the  duties  of  sovereignty,  enjoyed 
the  greatest  happiness    which  could   belong  to  a  private    station. 
He  walked  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  without  guard  or  attend- 
ant, as  a  private  individual,  more  secure  in  the  love  and  affection 
of. his  subjects,  than  in  the  strength  of  an  imperial  retinue.     He 
lived  with   his   friends   on  terms  of  the  most   fomiliar  intercourse  ; 
he  shared  in  all  their  amusements  ;  and  there  was  between  them 
'  an    interchange  of  every  kind  and  affectionate  duty.      Such  was 
the  virtuous  and  venerable  Trajan,  whose  character  so  justly  mer- 
ited the  surname  universally  given  him,  Trajanus   Optimus.     He 
died  at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  after  a  reign   of  nineteen   years,  a 
period  during  which  Rome  may  be  said  to  have  been  truly  happy, 
^lius    Adrianus,    on   the  pretence  of  having  been  adopted  by 
Trajan  in  his  last  moments,  took  advantage  of  his  command  of  the 
army  then   at  Antioch,   and   prev^ailed  with   them  to  proclaim   him 
emperor.     Trajan  had  been  his  tutor,  and  had  given  him  his  grand- 
niece  in   marriage.      These  circumstances  gave   a  colorable  title  to 
his  pretence  of  adoption,  and  the   senate,  therefore,  did  not  think 
proper  to  dispute  his  right.     It  was  the  first  measure  of  his  reign 
to  abandon  all  the  conquests   of  Trajan.     He  restored  to  the  Par- 
thians  the  election  of  an  independent  sovereign  ;  established  Chos- 
roes  in  his  dominions  ;  withdrew  the  Roman   garrisons  from  the 
provinces  of  xVrmenia,  Mescpotamia,  and  Assyria  ;  and,  in  com- 
pliance with  the   nrecept  of  Augustus,  once  more   confined   the 


A     D.    133.]  ADRIAN  —ANTONINUS    PIUS.  497 

Eastern  (empire  u'iihin  the  bounds  of  the  Euphrates.  For  this 
conduct  various  motives  have  been  assigned.  It  has  been  ascribed 
to  envy  of  the  glory  of  his  predecessor ;  but  Gibbon  Justly  ob- 
serves, that  lie  could  scarcely  place  the  superiority  of  Trajan  in  a 
more  conspicuous  light,  than  by  thus  confessins;  himself  unequal 
even  to  retain  what  the  former  had  subdiicfl.  Indolence,  and  an 
aversion  to  war,  have  been  brouglit  forward  as  his  motives,  but 
Adrian  was,  in  fact,  an  excellent  soldier,  etjually  fearle-s  of  dan- 
ger or  of  fatigue.  It  is  certainly  more  natural  and  reasonable  to 
ascribe  to  policy  and  prudence,  a  measure  which  eventually  was 
conducive  to  the  happiness  and  security  of  the  state.  The  Par- 
thians,  he  well  knew,  could  not,  from  the  natural  strength  of  their 
country,  be  long  kept  under  the  yoke.  Adrian  foresaw  in  Parihia 
the  future  cradle  of  numerous  and  destructive  wars,  and  he  pre- 
ferred the  peace  and  security  of  the  empire  to  this  destructive 
prospect. 

On  his  return  to  Rome,  his  conduct  was  such  as  to  ingratiate 
him  with  every  rank  of  the  citizens.  He  remitted  all  the  debts 
due  to  the  treasury  for  the  last  sixteen  years,  by  burning  the 
records  and  obligations.  He  bestowed  liberal  presents  upon  those 
amongst  the  ancient  families  who  had  fallen  into  indigence,  and  ap- 
pointed new  funds  for  the  maintenance  and  education  of  the  children 
of  the  poor.  He  then  undertook  a  progress  through  all  tlie  prov- 
inces of  the  empire,  repressing  abuses,  and  studiously  relieving  the 
people  wherever  he  found  the  taxes  too  heavy  or  exorbitant.  He 
rebuilt  many  cities  which  had  been  destroyed  or  had  fallen  into  ruin 
Amongst  the  rest  he  rebuilt  Jerusalem,  which  he  named  *'E/ia 
CapitoUna.  In  these  progresses  through  his  dominions,  so  care- 
ful was  he  in  avoiding  every  thing  whic:h  might  disin'ss  the  |)ro- 
vinces,  that  he  used  no  equipage  or  show,  but  travelled  on  foot 
and  lived  with  the  frugality  of  a  common  soldier.  This  exem- 
plary conduct  made  him  beloved  and  respected  by  his  subjects, 
as  much  as  he  was  formidable  to  the  enemies  of  the  empire  from 
his  courage  and  resolution.  His  popularity  became  so  great,  that 
he  stood  not  in  need  of  the  ensigns  of  power  and  authority.  Tjie 
guards,  and  the  fasces,  he  deemed  superfluous  to  him  who  made 
it  his  study  to  reign,  not  over  the  persons,  but  over  the  hearts  of 
his  subjects.  Although,  certainly,  a  few  instances  of  severity  had 
clouded  the  commencement  of  his  roign,  yet  these  were  dictated 
by  necessity  whilst  his  authority  was  insecure.  No  socner  was  he 
firmly  seated  on  the  throne,  than  his  clemency  and  bounty  were 
extended  to  all  ranks  of  his  subjects.  To  the  talents  of  an  ex- 
perienced captain  and  a  skilful  politician,  Adrian  joined  an  excel- 
lent taste  in  the  liberal  arts,  and  a  strong  disposition  towards  the 
advancement  of  science  and  political  literature.  He  was  an  ad- 
mirer of  poetry,  music,  and  painting,  and  was  himself  a  profuicnt 
m  those  arts.  He  seemed  endowed  with  a  universal  genius,  not 
only  being  eminent  for  those  nobler  qualities  which  consjtuie  llw 
VOL.  I.  6J 


4ny  UNIVEHSAI.     IlISTOKY.  [uOOK   V 

hii^luir  viiiues  of  an  cni[)iMor,  but  fur  those  inferior,  l)ut  not  less 
attractive,  graces  wliich  accompany  an  accoinpli.slied  and  cullivaled 
iniiid.  Envy  has  certainly  stained  the  memory  of  this  great  prince 
with  some  immoralities;  but,  as  for  the  truth  of  these  there  ap- 
pears no  foundation,  it  is  becoming  in  the  historian  rather  to  bury 
them  in  oblivion,  than  to  transmit  even  the  suspicion  of  them  to 
posterity.  On  the  whole,  the  reign  of  Adrian  was  to  the  Roman 
people  a  j)eriod  of  unusual  splendor,  attended  with  what  it  seldom 
brings  along  with  it, — uncommon  public  hajjjjiness. 

In  the  twenty-second  and  last  year  of  his  reign,  he  adopted  and 
declared  for  his  successor  Titus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  a  man  ol  ex- 
emplary character  and  exalted  merit.  But  not  satisfied  with  this 
immediate  instance  of  regard  for  posterity,  he  declared  Aurelius 
his  successor,  on  condition  that  he  should,  in  his  turn,  adopt  An- 
nius  Verus,  a  young  man  every  way  worthy  of  the  throne,  and  to 
whom  it  should  descend  on  his  decease.  These  two  were  the  An- 
tonines,  who  for  forty  years  governed  the  Roman  empire  with  con- 
summate wisdom,  abilliy,  and  rectitude.  Soon  after  having  made 
this  valuable  bequest  to  his  country,  Adrian  fell  into  a  lingering 
and  mortal  disease.  It  was  under  the  pressure  of  this  disease,  and 
in  full  conviction  of  his  approaching  dissolution,  that  he  wrote 
those  beautiful  and  well-knovvn  lines  addressed  to  his  soul,  which 
bear  so  strongly  the  mark  of  a  tranquil  and  philosophic  mind  con- 
vinced of  its  immortality,  but  anxious  for  its  unknown  destio-ition. 

Animula  vagula,  blandula, 
Hospes,  comesque  corporis, 
Qua;  nunc  abibis  in  loca; 
Palliduta,  friirida,  nudula — 
Nee  ut  soles  dabis  joca  ?  * 

We  have  now  arrived  at  the  age  of  the  Antonines,  the  ^hor* 
remaining  period  of  the  union  and  prosperity  of  the  Romas  Em- 
Diro. 


"  Poe's  translation  of  these  lines  is  in  everybody's  hands 


A     D     139  1  AGE    OF    THE    ANT0MNE8  499 


CHAPTER  II. 


Age  of  llie  Antonines — Comtnodiis — PerlinJix — The  Prmtorian  Guards  sf.l  the 
Empire  by  auction — Four  f^inporors  prnclaimpd— Severns  inarchrs  to  RoiiM 
and  disbands  the  PraJtorian  (luards — War  in  liritain — S-vcrus  dies  at  Vork 
— Caracalla — Disorders  in  the  Empire  continue  till  the  Rei;^n  of  Diocletian — 
Constantine — His  zoal  for  Christianity.  • 

The  reign  of  Anloniiuis  Pius  oflers  but  few  rcmarkaMe  events  to 
the  pen  of  the  historian,  as,  indeed,  generally  do  such  reigns  as 
are  the  most  happy.  His  character  was  that  of  the  true  philoso- 
pher, and  the  father  of  his  people.  He  was  likewise  an  excellent 
politician,  and  his  attention  to  the  cares  of  the  state  was  indefatiga- 
ble. Amongst  others  of  his  wise  regulations  may  be  reckoned 
that  law  which  projiibited  any  person,  once  acquitted,  to  be  tried 
again  for  the  same  crime.  Generous  to  others,  and  himself  per- 
fectly disinterested,  he  bestowed  his  whole  private  fortune  in  re- 
pairing the  losses  and  alleviating  the  calamities  of  the  wretched. 
As  he  was  secin-e  of  his  authority,  which  was  firmly  seated  in  the 
affections  of  his  people,  he  had  no  mean  jealousv  ol'  the  power 
of  his  ministers  and  magistrates;  he  raised  the  dignity  and  char- 
acter of  the  senate,  by  regulating  his  own  conduct  according  to  its 
directions  in  the  administration  of  all  public  afl'airs.  The  love  and 
esteem  of  his  subjects  were  only  equalled  by  the  respect  enter- 
tained for  his  character  by  foreign  nations.  He  was  made  the  um- 
pire of  the  differences  of  contending  slates,  and  received  the  vol- 
untary homage  of  princes  over  whom  he  had  no  other  authority 
than  what  tlie  admiration  of  his  wisdom  and  eminent  virtues  be 
slowed.  This  excellent  prince,  the  idol  of  his  su])iects,  died  in 
the  seventy-fourth  year  of  his  age,  after  a  happy  and  prosperous 
reign  of  twenty-two  years.  He  had,  in  the  beginning  of  his  reign, 
given  his  daughter  Faustina^,  together  with  the  title  of  Ca'sar,  to 
his  successor,  who  had  been  pointed  out  by  Adrian,  Annius  Ver  is, 
a  man  in  every  respect  worthy  to  fill  his  place. 

Annius  was  of  an  ancient  and  honorable  family.  On  his  acces- 
sion to  the  em|)ire,  he  changed  this  name  for  that  of  .Marcus  An 
relius  Antoninus,  and  Ik;  bestowed  that  of  Verus  upon  Lucius 
Commodus,  his  brother  by  adoption.  The  Stoical  phdosnpliy 
was,  at  this  time,  in  Rome,  the  most  prevalent  of  all  the  seels 
It  gained  credit  with  men  of  worth  and  probity  froin  its  opposition 
to  the  licentious  manners  of  the  limes.      Marcus  Aurelius  was  by 


500  UNIVKRSAI.  HISTORY.  [bOCK  T 

nature  attaclicd  to  this  philosophy,  still  more  than  b)  educrtion. 
His  morals  wore  jMiro,  his  manners  sim()le,  and  his  virtues  iho  re- 
sult of  his  natural  disposition.  His  JMediUUions,  which  arc  still 
extant,  and  which  were  composed  amidst  the  tumult  of  a  military 
life,  ahouiid  with  the  most  exalted  and  beautiful  sentiments  of  piety 
and  morality. 

Antoninus  had  preferred  M.  Aurelius  to  Lucius  Verus,  with 
whose  vicious  disposition  he  was  well  acquainted.  Yet  the  gene- 
rosity of  Marcus  made  him  hasten  to  admit  this  unworthy  brother 
to  a  share  in  the  empire — an  action  which  can  admit  of  no  justifi- 
cation. Rome  had  now,  in  fact,  two  emperors;  and  those  who 
loved  their  country  prayed  as  earnestly  for  the  life  of  Marcus  Au- 
relius as  they  did  that  Verus  might  not  survive  hinu  The  Par- 
thians,  judging  the  death  of  Antoninus  Pius  a  favorable  opportunity 
to  attack  the  empire,  entered  Armenia,  and  there  cut  to  pieces 
•  the  Roman  army.  They  proceeded  thence  to  ravage  Syria,  and 
an  inroad  was  made  at  the  same  time  by  the  Catti  into  Germany. 
Marcus  Aurelius  sent  L.  Verus  against  the  Parthians,  but  that  de- 
bauched and  abandoned  youth  trusted  to  his  generals  the  whole 
conduct  of  the  expedition,  whilst  he  himself  spent  his  time  be- 
tween Anlioch  and  Laodicea  in  the  lowest  excesses.  His  gener- 
als, however,  were  victorious,  and  he,  proud  of  the  laurels  he  had 
not  won,  returned  at  the  head  of  his  troops  into  Italy,  w'here  he 
carried  with  him  a  most  dreadful  pestilence  which  almost  depo- 
pulated that  country,  and  continued  to  rage  for  many  years  from 
province  to  province  through  the  whole  empire. 

During  this  calamity  many  of  the  Gernian  nations  took  up  arms 
— the  Vandals,  Dacians,  Quadi,  Suevi,  and  Alemanni.  They 
laid  waste  Pannonia,  and  thence  penetrated  into  Greece,  where 
they  ravaged  even  the  Peloponnesus.  In  this  concurrence  of 
misfortunes,  the  public  finances  were  exhausted  to  afford  the 
requisite  succors;  and  Aurelius,  instead  of  the  usual  resource  of 
.ncreasing  the  taxes,  adopted  the  generous  expedient  of  divesting 
himself  of  his  whole  fortune  to  supply  the  deficiency,  and  sold  for 
the  public  benefit  even  the  furniture  of  his  palaces.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  take  immediate  measures  for  .reducing  the  rebellion  ill 
Germany.  The  emperor,  who  had  now  experienced  the  disposi- 
tion of  L.  Verus,  could  neither  venture  to  trust  him  with  the  coin 
mand  of  the  army,  nor  with  the  equally  important  task  of  govern- 
ing Rome  in  his  absence.  He  therefore,  in  concert  with  the 
senate,  obtained  from  them  a  decree,  that  both  the  Augusti  should 
march  against  the  revolted  nations.  They  accordingly  set  out 
together  for  Aquileia,  but  Marcus  Aurelius  was  in  a  few  months 
happily  deprived  of  his  colleague,  and  the  empire  of  its  fears,  by 
the  death  of  Verus.  Of  this  German  war  historians  have  fur- 
nished us  with  no  detail  ;  Marcus  Aufelius,  we  know,  finished  it 
in  a  few  campaigns,  and  had  granted  the  rebellious  nations  favor- 
able terms  of  peace,  when  ne  was  recalled  to  Italy  by  the  revolt 


A     D      180]  OLIAIH   O!-   AUUKI.ILS COMMODUS.  5Ci 

of  Avidius  Cassius,  who,  ii|)nii  a  false  report  of  his  death,  haa 
caused  himseU"  to  he  jji-oclaiiued  emperor.  Tliis  insurrection, 
iiowever,  was  speedily  terminated  hy  the  death  of  Cassius,  who 
was  murdered  by  one  of  his  own  oflieer:-. 

Aureiius  now  undertook  a  progress  into  Asia,  where  some  dis- 
orders had  made  his  presence  necessary.  Here  he  received  the 
homage  of  all  the  eastern  nations.  He  appeare^l,  says  an  ancient 
author  of  that  time,  like  a  benevolent  ileity,  diffusing  around  him 
universal  peace  and  happiness  ;  he  jvas  absent  from  Rome  seven 
years,  and  his  return  was  celebrated  hy  the  sincerest  joy  of  his 
people. 

His  last  military  exjiediiion  was  ai;ain?t  the  Marcomanni,  and 
others  of  the  Germin  nations,  who  had  again  taken  up  arms.  He 
had  proceeded  far  to  the  reduction  of  these  obstinate  rebels,  whom 
he  must  soon  have  brought  under  subjection,  when,  to  the  un- 
speakable grief  and  'ess  of  the  empire,  he  died  in  Pannonia,  in  the 
fifty-ninth  year  of  hi«  age,  and  the  nineteenth  of  his  reign.  His 
memory  was  long  revered  by  posterity,  and  above  a  century  after 
his  death  many  persons  preserved  the  image  of  Marcus  Aureiius 
among  their  household  gods.  From  the  tleath  of  Domilian,  which 
ha])pened  in  the  9Cth  year  of  the  Christian  era,  to  iJiat  of  Marcus 
Aureiius  Antoninu?,  whi(di  took  place  in  the  ISOth,  a  period  of 
eighty-four  years,""  the  Roman  empire  had  enjoyed  the  greatest 
prosperity  and  happiness.  It  was  governed  by  absolute  power, 
but  this  power  was  under  the  direction  of  wisdom  and  virtue. 
"Tile  armies,"  says  Gibbon,  "were  restrained  by  the  firm,  yet 
gentle  hand  of  five  successive  emperors,  whose  characters  and 
authority  commanded  involuntary  respect.  The  forms  of  the  civil 
administration  were  carefidly  |)reserved  by  Trajan,  Adrian,  and 
the  Antonines,  who  delighted  in  the  image  of  liberty,  and  were 
pleased  with  considering  themselves  as  the  accountable  miiiisiers 
of  the  laws.  vS'ich  prince:  deserved  the  honor  of  restoring  the 
republic,  nau  t)'"^  Itxiiii.j  ol  their  days  been  capable  of  enjoying 
a  rational  treeuom. 

Commonus  was  b:irn  soon  after  the  elevation  of  his  father  Mar- 
cus Aurehus  to  ir.e  throux  He  inherited  none  of  the  virtues  of 
Aur(,'rn  ;,  out  rc-nennit-i  rnii.'h  his  u;otlier  Faustina,  a  princess 
second  )nly  to  Messalina  in  every  spe-jies  of  vice.  It  was  almost 
the  on  /•  weakness  of  M.  .\urelius,  that  he  was  blind  to  the  infa- 
mous c.iaracler  of  his  wife  and  son.  He  even  conferred  honors 
and  titles  on  tho?e  whom  all  but  himself  knew  to  be  the  acknovv- 
.edg(Hl  gnllaiils  of  Faustina  ;  and  by  a  blamable  innovation,  he 
had  caused  his  son  Commodus  to  be  declared  Augustus  in  his 
own  lifetime.  Commodus  was  in  his  twentieth  year,  when,  b) 
the  d'ath  of  his  father,  he  succeed  d  to  llu!  lhri)ne.  His  first 
step  was  to  purchase  a  disgraceful  peace  with  the  barbarians  in 
Germany — im|)atient  to  get  rid,  without  the  fatigue  of  fighting,  of 
the  trouble  of  a   war       From  his   infancy  he  had   discovered  an 


502  UNIVCKSAI.    IlISTORT  [  DOOK  V 

aversion  tn  uliaicvor  was  ralioiial  or  liheral,  and  an  excessive 
attaclunent  to  the  anuiseniciils  of  the  ])Oj)ulafc,  llio  sports  of  iho 
rirciis  nnd  amphitheatre,  the  combats  of  gladiators,  and  the  hunt- 
ing of  wild  beasts.  It  was  his  iiighest  and  only  ambition  to  excel 
in  tiu'se  exercises:  he  foiiglil  as  a  conimon  gladiator  in  the  circus — 
and  liis  favorite  epithet  was  that  of  the  Roman  Hercules,  which  is 
still  to  be  seen  up«n  his  coins  and  medals.  His  whole  conduct 
was  equally  odious  and  contemptible,  and  the  public  measures  of 
his  reign  consist  of  nothing  bui  the  detection  of  some  conspiracies 
which  the  hatred  of  his  subjects  and  his  own  (Tuclty  and  inhu- 
manity could  not  fail  to  excite.  One  conspiracy,  at  length, 
delivered  the  empire  of  its  tyrant.  His  concubine  Marcia,  his 
chamberlain,  and  the  commander  of  his  guard,  had  ventured  to 
remonstrate  with  him  on  the  indecency  of  an  emperor  displaying 
himself  as  a  combatant  in  the  public  games.  This  was  an  ofi'ence 
which  could  not  be  forgiven,  and  he  accordingly  determined  their 
immediate  destruction.  Marcia  found  the  list  of  his  intended 
victims  written  in  his  own  hand.  She  made  haste  to  anticipate 
his  purpose,  and  caused  this  worthless  and  inglorious  wretch  to  be 
strangled,  in  the  thirty-second  year  of  his  age  and  the  thirteenth 
of  his  reign. 

Lastus,  captain  of  the  praetorian  guards,  who  had  conducted  the 
conspiracy  which  rid  the  world  of  Commodus,  Bestowed  the  em- 
pire on  Publius  Helvetius  Pertinax,  a  man  of  obscure  extraction, 
but  who,  by  his  virtues  and  military  talents,  had  raised  himself  to 
rank  and  esteem.  The  soldiers  were  promised  a  large  donative, 
and  the  people,  who  respected  the  character  of  Pertinax,  recog- 
nised him  for  their  sovereign  with  the  utmost  demonstrations  of 
joy.  He  applied  himself  immediately  to  the  reformation  of  the 
abuses  introduced  by  liis  predecessor,  but  his  zeal  for  this  re- 
formation transported  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  prudence.  The 
praetorian  guards,  debauched  and  effeminate  in  their  morals  and  con- 
stitution, bore  with  great  impatience  the  severity  of  that  discipline 
to  which  they  were  now  subjected,  and  regretted  the  happy  licen- 
tiousness of  the  former  reign.  La^tus,  the  prefect,  who  expected 
that  his  services  would  entitle  him  to  rule  as  a  favorite  minister, 
was  disappointed  by  the  austerity  of  the  government  of  Pertinax. 
These  discontents  soon  increased  to  such  a  degree  as  to  become 
insurmountable ;  and  the  too  virtuous  Pertinax,  after  a  reign  of 
only  eighty-six  days,  was  openly  murdered  in  the  palace  by  the 
same  hands  which  had  placed  him  on  the  throne. 

A  transaction  followed  which  was  shameful  beyond  example  : 
Sulpicianus,  the  father-in-law  of  Pertinax,  demanded  the  empire 
from  the  prcetorians,  who  re|)lied  to  him,  tliat  he  should  have  his 
chance  for  it  at  a  lair  auction,  as  they  had  resolved  to  bestow  it  on 
the  highest  bidder.  Didius  Julianus,  a  wealthy  senator,  was  at 
table  when  this  intelligence  was  brought  him.  His  wife,  and  the 
parasites  who  surrounded  him,  persuaded  him  he   should   embrace 


A.   D.     193.]  DEATH   OF  COMMODUS PEKTINAX.  503 

this  opportunity  of  ascending  a  ihione,  wliicli  his  viruies  had  lonj 
nieiited.  He  repaired  iiislamly  to  the  pra-torian  camp,  and  bidding 
at  once  a  considerable  snni  beyond  tlie  otit-r  of  Sulpicianus,  lie  was 
immediately  proclaimed  emperor.  The  obsequious  senate  made 
no  scruple  to  confirm  this  election.  He  look  his  way  to  the  palace, 
where,  it  is  said,  the  first  object  that  struck  his  eyes  was  the  head- 
less trunk  of  Pertinax,  and  the  frugal  entertainment  which  had 
been  prepared  for  his  supper.  He  viewed  both  with  equal  indif- 
ference, for  he  foresaw  not  what  awaited  him. 

The  people,  not  yet  lost  to  every  sense  of  their  own  importance, 
considered  this  measure  as  the  last  and  severest  insult  on  the  tto- 
nian  name.  They  gave  free  vent  to  their  opinions  ;  they  openly 
execrated  Didius  as  a  usurper,  and  invited  the  legions  in  the  pro- 
vinces to  assert  the  injured  dignity  of  the  empire.  Amor-^st  the 
generals  who  commanded  these  distant  legions  was  Porsennius 
Niger.  He  was  at  that  time  in  the  government  of  Syria,  when  he 
received  the  request  of  the  people  to  avenge  the  minder  of  Perti- 
nax. The  j)eople  of  Asia  solicited  him  to  assume  the  purple  himself, 
and  he  was  easily  prevailed  upon.  But  at  the  same  time  thai  he 
was  proclaimed  in  Asia,  Decimiis  Clodius  Albinus  was  proclaimed 
by  the  troops  in  Britain,  and  Septimus  Severus  in  Illyria.  Albinus, 
of  known  courage  but  of  doubtful  moral  character,  was  sprung 
from  one  of  the  noblest  families  in  Rome.  Severus,  an  .\frican 
by  birth,  owed  his  favor  with  the  soldiers  in  a  great  measure  to 
the  high  re£;ard  he  had  always  professed  for  the  character  of 
Pertinax  ;  but  above  all,  to  the  promise  of  a  donative  superior  to 
the  price  at  which  the  wealthy  Didius  had  purchased  the  em|)ire. 
Saluted  by  his  soldiers  with  the  highest  acclamations,  and  hailed 
by  the  title  of  Augustus,  Severus  marched  directly  to  Rome.  The 
pra;torians,  on  the  news  of  his  approach,  immediately  abandoned 
Didius  to  his  fate  :  and  the  senate,  without  ceremony  condemned 
him  to  be  executed  in  the  imperial  palace.  He  reigned  sixty-six 
days. 

The  almost  incredible  expedition  of  Severus,  who  ronduclcJ 
n  a  few  days  a  numerous  army  from  the  banks  of  the  Danube  lo 
those  of  the  Tiber,  proves  at  once,  as  Mr.  Gibbon  has  remarked, 
the  uncommon  plenty  produced  at  this  lime  by  the  ngriculture 
and  commerce  of  the  empire,  ihc  good  state  of  ihe  roads,  ibo 
discipline  of  the  legions,  and  the  indolent,  subdued  temper  of  the 
provinces. 

Severus  immediately  ordered  the  cornqited  and  inso|(^nt  troops 
of  the  praetorians  to  assemble  unarmr'd  on  a  larce  |)lnin  without 
the  city.  They  obeyed  in  terror  for  their  fate.  He  caused  them 
to  be  surrounded  with  the  Illyrian  legions,  and  then  sharply  re- 
proaching them  with  the  murder  of  Pertinax,  and  the  di«graccful 
sale  of  the  empire,  (which  he  and  his  troops  had,  however,  so 
accurately  imitated,)  he  dismissed  them  with  ignominy  fron)  iheif 
trust,  and  banished  ilie  whole  of  them,  on  pain  of  death,  to  the  dis 


604  UNIVEIISAL    IllSTORV.  [bOOK  V 

tance  of  one  hundred  miles  from  Rome.     He  then  created  a  new 
guard,  which  he  composed  of  soldiers  of  all  diflereiit  countries. 

Mailers  in  the  meantime  wore  an  unfavorable  aspect  in  the 
extremties  of  the  empire.  Both  the  east  and  west  were  in  arms 
against  Severus.  Finding  himself  unable  at  ihe  same  time  to 
march  against  both,  he  endeavored  to  secure  the  friendship  of 
Albinus,  by  a])pointing  him  his  successor  in  the  empiie,  with  the 
title  of  Caesar  ;  and  having  thus  conciliated  this  powerful  rival,  he 
instantly  marched  against  Niger  in  Asia.  The  armies  soon  met ; 
and  by  the  successful  issue  of  three  battles,  in  one  of  which  Niger 
lost  his  life,  he  found  himself  without  a  rival,  and  master  of  the 
empire.  Ilis  victories  were  succeeded  by  a  conduct  little  short 
of  that  of  a  Marius  or  an  Octavius.  His  proscription  almost  ex- 
terminated the  army  of  Niger  ;  and  the  miserable  remnant  which 
escaped  were  driven  to  seek  shelter  amongst  the  Parthians,  to 
whom  they  taught  the  use  of  the  Roman  arms. 

Severus  was  now  no  longer  under  the  necessity  of  keeping  terms 
with  Albinus.  He  deprived  him  accordingly  of  the  tide  of  Caesar, 
evincing  clearly  that  it  had  been  from  necessity,  not  choice,  he 
had  ever  bestowed  it.  Provoked  at  this  usage,  Albinus  assumed 
a  more  illustrious  denomination,  caused  himself  to  be  proclainied 
emperor,  and  marched  for  Italy.  Fortune  still  attended  the  arms 
of  Severus  ;  he  defeated  Albinus  in  a  decisive  battle  near  Lyons  ; 
and  this  general,  anticipating  the  fate  which  awaited  him,  preferred 
dying  by  his  own  hand.  The  temper  of  Severus,  naturally  cruel, 
found  many  victims  in  those  who  had  favored  the  parties  of  his 
rival  competitors.  He  examined  the  papers  of  Albinus,  and  thence 
found  pretext  for  sacrificing  forty  of  the  senators.  He  seemed  to 
take  pleasure  in  degrading  that  order,  and  his  intention  seemed 
to  1)P  to  extinguish  every  trace  of  the  ancient  republican  adminis- 
tration, and  erect  the  perfect  fabric  of  an  absolute  monarchy.  It 
became,  therefore,  his  object  to  gain  the  affection  of  the  soldiers, 
whom  he  attached  to  himself  by  every  favor  which  he  cOuld  be- 
slow.  Nor  was  his  policy  less  conspicuous  in  the  employment  of 
men  of  talents,  w-ho  in  their  writings  and  discourses  instilled  into 
llie  minds  of  the  people  the  doctrines  of  passive  obedience,  and 
duty  of  absolute  submission  to* the  will  of  their  master.  Dion 
Cassius,  the  historian,  appears  to  have  been  commissioned  to  form 
these  opinions  into  a  system,  and  the  Pandectae  of  the  Roman  law 
afford  evidence  that  the  advocates  and  judges  cooperated  all  to  ihe 
same  end. 

Having  thus  secured  his  authority  by  every  precaution  which 
he  esteemed  necessary,  he  applied  himself,  with  a  policy  certainly 
both  able  and  praiseworthy,  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  em- 
pire. His  conduct  in  the  administration  of  justice  was  exemplary. 
His  laws  were  wise  and  judicious,  and  the  fame  of  the  Roman 
arms  in  no  period  since  the  republic  had  risen  higher  than  in  die 
reign  of   Severus.     He  delighted  to  affirm,  and   he    had    reason 


A.   D.    212.]  CAUACALLA.  •     505 

certainly  to  glory  in  i/,  that  having  received  the  emp're  oppressed 
with  foreign  and  domestic  wars,  he  left  it  in  profound,  universal, 
and  honorable  peace.  To  the  military  and  political  talents  of 
Severus  was  added  a  taste  for  the  fine  arts,  niore  especially  for 
architecture.  The  most  eminent  of  the  civil  lawyers  flourished 
under  his  reign — Ulpian,  Paulus,  and  Papinian,  who  brought  the 
system  of  Roman  jurisprudence  to  its  highest  perfection. 

Seveius  had  two  sons,  Caracalla  and  Geia,  who  distinguished 
diemselves  in  their  infancy  by  a  fixed  and  im|)lacable  hatred 
against  each  other.  This  unhappy  and  unnatural  discord  clouded 
the  latter  days  of  Severus.  With  a  view  of  ob\iaiing  the  evil 
effects  which  the  flattery  of  a  court  produced  on  their  minds,  the 
emperor  seized  the  occasion  of  the  war  in  IJriiain  to  carry  them  along 
with  him,  after  associating  them  both  with  himself  in  tlie  empire. 
Severus  was  at  this  time  sixty  years  of  age,  and  enfeebled  with 
disease.  The  Caledonians,  under  the  conunand  of  Fingal,  invaded 
the  Roman  frontier,  and  defeaicd,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Carron, 
Caracalla,  wliom  Ossian  names  the  son  of  the  k'ni'^  of  the  tcorld. 
During  the  course  of  this  war  in  Britain,  it  is  shocking  to  relate 
that  the  abandoned  Caracalla  more  than  once  attempted  the  life 
of  his  father,  who,  at  length,  broken  by  disease,  died  at  York,  in 
the  211th  year  of  the  Christian  era.  Caracalla  and  Geta  agreed 
to  divide  the  empire,  the  former  retaining  the  western  part,  and 
the  latter,  Asia  and  the  eastern  provinces.  The  nuitual  hatred  of 
these  two  brothers  was  now  fomented  by  their  association  in  the 
government.  Caracalla,  at  length  worn  out  by  the  struggle,  and 
unable  to  bear  longer  with  his  rival,  caused  him  to  he  openly 
assassinated  in  the  arms  of  his  mother  Julia,  and  had  the  address 
to  persuade  the  people  that  he  was  compelled  to  this  atrocious 
deed  by  motives  of  self-preservation.  On  this  subject  iKIius 
Spartianus  has  transmitted  a  fact,  which  strongly  marks  the  de 
eracy  of  the  Roman  character,  and  that  abject  servility  with 
ch  the  higiiest  ranks  of  the  state  subtr.iltcd  to  the  yoke  of 
tyranny. 

Caracalla,  after  the  death  of  his  brother  Geta,  thought  it  ncces 
sary  to  apologize  to  the  senate  for  a  i\cci\  so  dark  and  unnatural. 
He  ordered  a  body  of  his  guards  to  enter  the  senaie-hoine,  and  two 
armed  soldiers  to  post  theinselves  at  the  side  of  every  senator. 
Then  gravely  walking  up  to  the  consul's  chair,  he  pronottnced  a 
studied  harangue,  setting  forth  the  imperious  necessity  of  the  ac- 
tion, and  urging  that  his  concern  for  the  interests  of  the  s'.ato  had, 
in  tliis  single  instance,  overcome  his  fraternal  affection  and  the 
humanity  of  his  nature.  It  may  be  believed  that  the  Conscri|)l 
Fathers  were  in  no  disposition  to  dispute  the  lorce  oi  his  argu- 
ments. Caracalla  was  now  proclaimcjd  sole  emperor,  and  one 
of  the  first  acts  of  his  adminisiraiion  was  to  put  to  death  the  ccle 
brated  lawyer  Papinian,  who  had  refiised  to  justify  his  conduct  to 
the  people'  His  reign,  which  was  nothing  but  one  continued  scene 
VOL.    I.  01 


506  UMVEnsAi.  iiisTouv.  [hook  v 

of  most  rnni|)lirntc(l  rrurliins,  \v:is  at  last  tcrmiriatod   hy  tlic  assas- 
sinaiioii  of  ilie  tyrant,  in  tlic>  sixth  year  of  his  govcriinieiit. 

Those  disorders  in  the  empire  which,  as  we  have  seen,  began 
will)  the  reign  of  Commochis,  continued  for  about  a  century,  liU 
tlie  accession  of  Diocletian.  That  interval  was  filled  up  by  the 
reigns  of  Ileliogabalus,  Alexander  Severus,  Maximin,  Gord'an, 
Decius  Giillns,  Valerianus,  Gallienus,  Claudius,  Aurelian,  Tacitus, 
Probus,  and  Cams.  The  history  of  those  reigns  has  been  bril- 
liantly given  by  Mr.  Gibbon:  and  pleasure  and  profit  must  ever 
accompany  the  productions  of  that  aoic,  though  sometimes  dan- 
gerous, pen  ;  but  our  plan  confines  js  necessarily  to  such  general 
views  as  furnish  useful  lessons  of  the  knowledge  of  mankind,  and, 
excluding  all  minuteness  of  detail,  looks  only  to  those  circumstan- 
ces which  may  tend  to  illustrate  the  great  doctrines  of  politics  or 
of  morality.  In  tliat  catalogue  of  names  which  we  enumerated. 
Valerian,  a  prince  of  considerable  virtues,  but  enfeebled  by  age 
before  he  attained  the  empire,  was  the  first  of  the  Roman  empe- 
rors who  i)crished  in  captivity.  In  an  unsuccessful  expedition 
against  Sapor,  king  of  Persia,  he  was  taken  prisoner,  treated,  as  is 
said,  with  every  circumstance  of  indignity,  and  languished  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days  in  misery.  During  the  reign  of  his  son  Gal- 
lienus., there  were  actually  nineteen  pretenders  to  the  sovereigntj 
of  diOerent  parts  of  the  Roman  empire.  One  of  these,  a  native 
of  Palmyra,  Odenaihus,  by  an  effectual  opposition  to  the  progress 
of  Sapor  in  Syria,  was  the  preserver  of  that  valuable  province 
Gallienus,  sensible  of  his  merits,  conferred  on  him  the  title  (/ 
Augustus  ;  and  Odcnathus,  like  an  independent  sovereign,  be- 
queathed at  his  death  his  crown  to  his  widow  Zenobia.  Claudius, 
the  successor  of  Gallienus,  occupied  in  his  wars  against  the  Ger 
man  nations,  allowed  Zenobia  to  reign  in  peace  over  several  of 
the  Asiatic  provinces,  to  which  she  added,  by  conquest,  the  king- 
dom ot  Egypt.  For  five  years  she  maintained  a  splendid  and 
politic  dominion.  But  Aurelian,  the  successor  of  Claudius,  after 
the  reduction  of  the  Germans,  and  the  recovery  of  Gaul,  Sp?in, 
and  Britain,  out  of  the  hands  of  Tetricus,  a  bold  usurper,  turned 
the  arms  of  the  empire  against  this  heroic  queen  of  the  East. 
She  defended  her  dominions  with  a  manly  spirit,  and  maintained  a 
siege  in  her  capital  of  Palmyra,  which  for  a  while  baffled  the  ut- 
most effbris  of  the  Roman  arms.  The  city,  however,  at  le»-gth 
surrendered,  and  Zenobia,  attempting  to  escape  by  flight  upor»  the 
back  of  a  dromedary,  was  taken  and  conveyed  a  prisoner  to  Au- 
relian. He  brought  the  captive  princess  to  Rome,  where  she, 
together  wiUi  Tetricus,  graced  the  triumph  of  Aurelian;  he  queen 
bound  in  fetters  of  gold.  The  emperor  assigned  her  an  elegant 
villa,  near  Rome,  for  her  residence.  The  Syrian  queen  gradually 
sunk  into  a  Roman  matron  ;  her  daughters  married  into  Roman 
families;  and  her  race  was  not  yet  extinct  in  the  fifth  century. 

The  succeeding  reigns   of  Tacitus,  Probus,  and  Carus,  occupy 


4..    D.   305. J  DIOCLETIA.V    AND    MAXIMI  IV.  507 

a  spnce  of  nine  years,  in  t!io  first  seven  of  which- -ilic  reigns  of 
Taciius  and  Probus — the  Roman  empire  was  seen  in  a  siaie  both 
of  splendor  and  of  happiness.  To  Cams  sncceoded  Diocletian, 
who  bsgan  his  reign  in  iha  234lh  year  of  the  Christian  era,  and  who 
soon  evinced  himself  a  prince  of  the  greatest  talents  in  every  respect, 
but  more  especially  as  a  politician.  He  may  be  considered,  like 
Augustus,  as  the  founder  of  a  new  empire.  By  birth  a  Dalmatian, 
and  of  mean  extraction,  he  had  yet  raised  himself,  by  his  MiL'rit,  to 
the  supreme  command  in  the  army,  and,  having  gained  the  empire, 
he  determined  to  govern  it  by  a  new  system  of  administration. 
Fie  divided  into  four  different  governments  the  whole  of  the  impe- 
rial dominions,  and  all  the  doparlmsnts  of  authority,  civil  and  mili- 
tary. There  were  aj)pointed  to  these,  four  different  governors, 
with  equal  powers.  Diocletian  associated  Maximiaii  with  himself 
as  his  colleague  in  thj  empire,  with  the  tide  of  Augustus;  and 
bestowed  on  his  two  generals,  Galerius  and  Constantius,  the  titles 
of  Cnesars. 

The  f)ur  princes  had  each  their  distinct  department:  Galerius 
was  stationed  on  the  Danube  to  g'lard  the  Illyrian  provinces; 
Constantius  had  the  command  of  Gaul,  Spain,  and  Britain;  .Ma\i- 
tnian  that  of  Italy  and  Africa;  and  Diocletian  of  Thrar-e,  E:jypt, 
and  the  Asiatic  provinces.  Each  was  supreme  in  his  own  district, 
and,  what  is  truly  singular,  and  evinces  the  talents  of  Diocletian, 
all  lived  in  harmony,  and  in  the  most  perfect  good  understanding 
with  each  other.  This  plan  of  dividing  the  em|)ire  was  evidLMiily 
a  bad  one  in  itself,  nor  could  it  possibly  have  been  supported  but 
by  the  superior  and  controlling  genius  of  Diocletian.  He  allotted, 
in  appearance,  an  equality  of  powers  to  his  colleagues;  but,  in 
fact,  the  eminence  of  his  own  character  and  the  superiority  of  his 
genius  gave  him  always  a  decided  preeminence,  and  the  other 
princes  were  little  more  than  his  viceroys  or  lieutenants.  At 
times  he  would  make  them  understand  this  even  with  arrogance 
and  harshness.  Galerius  had  been  defcatcil  by  the  Persians,  or. 
which  occasion  Diocletian  treated  him  with  the  utmost  roniempl, 
making  him  follow  his  chariot  on  foot;  nor  was  he  restored  to 
favor  till  he  had  by  his  successes  regained  his  credit,  and  with 
this  an  equality  of  power. 

Under  the  roigu  of  this  emperor,  all  vestiges  of  the  ancieni 
liberty  of  ilio  Roman  constitution  were  entirely  annihilated.  The 
sovereign  assumed  that  ensign  of  royalty  most  odious  lo  the  Ro- 
mans, the  diadem,  and  introduced  at  home  all  the  magnificent 
ceremonial  of  tha  Persian  court.  The  name  of  the  Senate  of 
Rome  continued  to  be  respected,  but  this  body  ceased  to  have 
the  smallest  weight  or  influence  in  affairs  of  state.  By  the  vigor 
of  Diocletian's  administration,  and  the  active  abilities  of  his  asso- 
ciates in  power,  the  Roman  arms  Tcgaiiifd  for  a  whil?  their  ancieni 
splendor,  and  general  godd  order  pervaded  the  empire.  It  was 
durin"^  this  reign,  also,  that  the  uortliern  barbarians,  who  for  some 


51Q  UNIVERSAL  mbTORY.  [bOOK    V 

time  b^'fore  had  madt;  themselves  known  by  some  partial  irrup- 
tions, poured  down  in  prodigious  swarms  upon  the  extremities  of 
the  empire.  The  Scythians,  Goths,  Sarmalians,  Alani,  and  Quadi, 
began  to  make  dreadful  inroads,  and  for  a  while  every  successive 
defeat  seemed  only  to  increase  their  strength  and  perseverance. 

At  this  period,  Diocletian,  along  wiih  his  colleague  Maximian, 
surprised  the  world  by  resigning  at  once  the  royal  dignity,  and, 
leaving  the  government  in  the  hands  of  tlie  two  Caesars,  voluntarily 
returned  to  the  condition  of  private  citizens.  Diocletian  retired 
to  Salona,  the  place  of  his  nativity,  now  Spalatro,  in  Dalinatia, 
where  he  built  a  palace  superior  in  extent  and  magnificence  to 
any  of  his  predecessors.  In  this  seclusion  from  the  cares  of  gov- 
ernment he  lived  for  several  years,  and  was  wont  to  say,  that  he 
counted  the  day  of  his  retreat  as  the  beginning  of  his  life.  Maxi- 
mian, who  had  abdicated  not  from  individual  choice,  but  in  conse- 
quence of  a  promise  exacted  on  his  admission  to  a  siiare  in  the 
government,  retired  less  willingly  to  Lucania.  Constantius  and 
Galerius  now  jointly  governed  the  Roman  empire,  but  soon  after, 
Constantius  died  in  Britain,  and  his  son  Constanline,  succeeding 
in  the  command  of  the  troops,  caused  himself  to  be  proclaimed 
emperor  in  the  city  of  York.  He  immediately  acquainted  Galerius 
of  (his  event,  who  was  by  no  means  heartily  disposed  to  acknow- 
ledge his  nomination.  On  Constanline  he  conferred,  or  raiher 
continued  to  him,  the  title  of  CcX^sar,  whilst  he  associated  with 
himself  in  the  empire  his  favorite  Severus.  Meanwhile,  Maximian- 
was  prevailed  upon  by  his  son  Maxentius  to  abandon  his  retire- 
ment, and  to  resume  the  purple.  They  engaged,  defeated,  and 
put  to  death  Severus;  and  Maximian,  to  unite  his  interest  with 
Constanline  against  Galerius,  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage, 
by  which  alliance  Constanline  acquired  a  double  tide  to  the  em- 
piro.  Soon  after  this,  Maximian,  for  what  cause  is  not  ascertained, 
died  by  his  own  hand,  and  Galerius  was  carried  off  by  a  mortal 
disease.  Maxentius  and  Constantino,  therefore,  reniained  upon 
the  stage  to  contend  for  the  prize  of  undivided  empire.  It  was 
at  diis  lime  that  Constanline,  being  converted  to  Christianity — 
(as  is  said,  by  a  miraculous  vision,) — the  true  religion,  after  strug- 
gling wiih  every  opposition  which  ignorance,  credulity,  and  per« 
secution  could  have  brought  against  il,  ascended  at  last  the  impe- 
rial throne.  Maxentius,  on  the  other  hand,  from  haired  to  his 
rival,  exerted  himself  in  the  most  violent  persecution  of  all  who 
professed  that  religion.  The  Christians  were  at  this  time  extremely 
numerous,  both  at  Rome  and  in  the  provinces,  and  it  became, 
therefore,  an  event  of  the  greatest  joy  to  them,  that  Maxentius 
in  the  first  battle  was  defeated  and  slain,  leaving  Constanline  un- 
disputed master  of  the  Roman  empire. 

The  first  step  of  his  administration  was  to  break  up  the  pre  nr'an 
bands,  a  measure  equally  politic  for  his  own  safety  and  agreeable 
to  the  people.      He  re-established  the  senate  in  its  ancient  deliber- 


A.   D.  330.]  COXSTANTINE CO.NSTAVT  INOPI.F..  509 

ative  rights;  commenced  the  repair  r.f  Romr  and  the  oihor  ritios 
of  Italy;  and  used  his  utmost  endeavor  hy  a  firm,  thnn-h  a  ejcntlc 
and  equitable  administration,  to  promote  tlie  happiness  and  interest 
of  his  people.  Aware  of  the  dan:;(^r  of  disgusting  the  puhlic  mind 
by  any  sudden  or  violent  innovation  upon  those  opinions  whifh 
ong  custom  had  rendered  sacred,  he  accepted  the  title  of  Pontifex 
Mtiximus,  and  in  his  first  edicts  .only  granted  to  the  Christians  the 
public  exerciye  of  their  religion;  but  his  own  example  daily 
increased  the  number  of  proselytes,  and  he  soon  after  began  to 
establish  churches  for  their  worship.  In  these  first  vears  of  his 
reign,  the  civil  administration  of  Con'-Mantine  was  excnllent.  Evfrv 
approach  to  oppression  in  the  officers  of  the  revenue  met  with  an 
innnodiate  check,  and  he  abrogated  that  cruel  institution  which 
inflicted  corporal  punishment  upon  those  who  were  debtors  to  the 
state.  His  maxim  was,  that  equity  ought  ever  to  preponderate 
over  strict  law,  and  ought  to  deterinine  all  cases  wherein  law  i^ 
doubtful.  But  amid  these  excellent  features  in  the  chararter  of 
Constantine,  it  is  painful  to  remark  that  a  disposition  to  crueliv 
appeared,  which  sullied  much  of  his  glory.  In  an  expedition 
against  the  Franks,  a  northern  nation  who  had  begun  to  make 
inroads  on  the  Gauls,  the  prisoners  taken  in  war  were,  with  the 
most  shocking  inhumanity,  exposed  in  the  amphitheatre  to  be 
devoured  by  wild  beasts. 

One  Licinius,  a  Dacian,  had  by  Gaierius  been  nominated  Caesar, 
and  on  the  death  of  Gaierius  maintained  possession  of  the  .\siaiic 
provinces.  Constantine  had  not  thought  it  expedient  to  dispute 
his  right,  while  as  yet  his  own  was  not  thoroughly  established, 
and  had  even  virtually  acknowledged  it  by  giving  him  his  sistnr 
in  marriage.  Licinius  was  a  persecutor  of  the  Christians,  and  this 
became  soon  a  sufficient  ground  for  Constantine  to  shake  him  of]'. 
He  accordingly  declared  war  against  him  as  an  enemy  to  God, 
and  armin^a  fleet  of  200  galleys,  and  I. SO, 000  men,  he  attacked 
him  in  .Asia,  and  gained  a  complete  victory.  His  rival  was  made 
prisoner,  and  was  promi^jcd  his  life,  but  this  pronnsewas  shamefully 
and  dishonoraijiy  broken,  and  Licinius  strnnirled  in  |>rison. 

Constantine,  now  absolute  and  sole  master  of  the  empire,  prr- 
ceeded  openly  to  signali/e  his  zeal  for  Christianity.  He  ordered 
the  temples  to  be  shut,  and  prohibited  sacrifices,  but  at  the  same 
lime  published  an  edict  in  the  Kast,  allowing  universnTJ  toleration. 
This  edict,  however,  which  certainly  seemed  inconsistent  with 
the  general  tenor  of  his  princijiles,  could  not  prevent  the  rising; 
of  a  fanatical  zeal  for  their  peculiar  tenets  in  the  minds  both  of 
Christians  aufl  of  heathens,  which  soon  produced  the  most  violent 
and  irreconeilable  animosities.  Constantine,  returning  from  his 
Asiatic  expedition,  alienated  the  minds  of  his  Roman  subjects  by 
two  extraoiflinarv  aets  of  cruelty,  the  murdi-r  of  his  son  Crispns 
and  his  step-mother  Fau^ta,  upon  li'.;hf  siispieions  of  some  inlamoiis 
connections  having  taken  place  between  them.      Many  other  indi- 


iJlO  b.VIVERSAL    HISTOrvV.  [nooK    V 

vidiials  of  rank  wcro  put  to  death  on  tlie  evidence  of  informers, 
nnd  on  iIk-  most  vague  and  general  suspicions.  The  cruelty  ol 
the  emperor  became  excessive.  Rome  cried  out  against  him  as  b 
second  Nero,  and  the  populace  openly  insulted  liim. 

Whether  it  was  the  disgust  he  conceived  at  this  decided  change 
in  the  minds  of  the  Romans,  or  solely  an  ambitious  and  unsettled 
disposition  which  led  to  his  design  of  altering  the  seat  of  empire, 
It  is  not  easy  to  determine.  He  fixed  his  eyes,  however,  on  By- 
zantium, to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Constantinople.  He 
erected  there  the  most  superb  structures,  and  in  order  to  people 
iiis  new  city,  he  made  a  law  by  which  no  Asiatic  should  have  the 
right  of  disposing  of  his  estate  by  testament,  unless  he  possessed  a 
dwelling-house  in  Constantinople.  Those,  again,  who  resided 
there  were  gratified  by  a  variety  of  alluring  privileges;  and  by 
means  of  these  he  drew  the  poorer  inhabitants  from  Rome,  whilst 
the  richer  voluntarily  followed  the  prince  and  his  court.  The 
grandees  brought  with  them  their  slaves,  and  Rome  in  a  few  years 
became  almost  depopulated.  Italy  was  also  greatly  exhausted  of 
her  inhabitants,  and  Constantinople  swelled  at  once  to  the  most 
overgrown  dimensions.  When  the  empire  was  thus  divided,  all 
riches  naturally  centered  in  the  new  capital.  At  this  period,  the 
German  mines  were  unknown,  those  of  Italy  and  Gaul  were  in- 
considerable, as  were  also  those  of  Spain.  Italy  was  now  a  waste 
of  desolated  gardens.  It  had  no  pecuniary  supplies  from  commerce, 
and  being  still  subjected  to  the  same  taxes  as  when  it  was  the  seat 
of  empire,  its  miserable  situation  may  be  easily  conceived. 

After  thus  w^eakening  or  rather  annihilating  the  ancient  capital 
of  the  empire,  Constantine  drew-  off  from  the  frontiers  the  legions 
which  wyve  stationed  on  the  banks  of  the  large  rivers,  and  dis- 
tributed them  into  the  provinces.  This  measure  had  two  most  per- 
nicious effects.  It  left  the  frontiers  to  the  mercy  of  the  barbarous 
nations,  and  enervated  ihe  troops  by  the  effeminate  pleasures  of 
the  great  cities.  Luxury,  which,  in  all  its  different  shapes,  per- 
vaded even  the  extremities  of  the  empire,  reigned  absolute  in  the 
centre.  Constantine  himself  in  every  thing  affected  the  Asiat'c 
splendor  and  ceremonial.  He  wore  the  diadem,  and  assumed  a 
number  of  high-sounding,  empty  titles;  his  amusements  were  at 
once  costlv  and  effeminate;  his  festivals  and  public  spectacles 
most  profusely  luxurious.  Towards  the  conclusion  of  his  reign, 
the  Goths,  inaking  another  invasion,  were  repulsed  and  defeated, 
but  by  imprudently  raising  many  of  them  to  offices  of  dignity,  he 
gave  to  these  barbarians  a  kind  of  footing  in  the  Roman  emj)ire. 

Sapor  n.,  king  of  Persia,  having  made  an  inroad  upon  Meso- 
potamia, Constantine  marched  against  him.  He  repulsed  the  Per- 
sian troops,  but  after  the  victory  fell  sick  at  Nicomedia,  and  there 
died  at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  and  in  the  thirtieth  year  of  his 
reign.  His  character  cannot  easily  be  drawn  with  in)partiality. 
Talents  and    ibility  in  no  common  degree  he  certainly  possessed 


Cil.    III.]  SYSTEM    OF    CONSTA.NTINE,    ETC.  5]  \ 

■jut  as  10  the  other  points  of  his  ciiaracler,  the  iirofessed  pictures 
of  historians  are  so  extremely  contradictory,  that  neither  Pagan  ncr 
Christian  writers  deserve  to  be  in  any  degree  relied  on.  liy  the 
one  class  he  is  held  forth  as  a  shining  example  of  uinversal  virtue; 
by  the  other  he  is  represented  as  a  Proteus  in  every  variety  of  vice. 
"We  may,"  says  the  Abbe  Fleury,  "form  an  impartial  judgment 
of  the  character  of  this  emperor,  by  believing  all  the  faults  ascribed 
to  him  by  the  Bishop  Eusebius,  and  all  the  good  spoken  of  him  by 
Zosimus."* 


CHAPTER  III. 


Chanjje  in  the  System  of  Policy  and  Government  inlrodtired  by  Constanlinr- 
Prclonan  Preli-cls — I'roconsuls — Counts  and  Dukes — Taxes — Tree  Gil\s — 
Seat  of  Empire  translated  to  Constantinople — Division  of  tlie  Kniuirt- — 
Julian — His  artful  Hostility  to  Christianity — Jovian  —  \'alentinian — Irrup- 
tions of  the  Goths — Of  the  Huns — Vaiens — Gratian — Tlieodosius— Valeuti- 
niau  the  Second. 

There  were  circumstances  uliicli  rendered  the  reign  of  Constan- 
tine  a  remarkable  epoch  in  the  history  of  ilie  Roman  empire;  and, 
as  it  is  of  consequence  that  we  siiould  b(!come  actiuainled  with 
that  new  system  of  policy  and  government  which  at  this  lime  was 
introduced,  and  which  was  so  materially  dillercnt  from  that  con- 
stitution with  which  we  have  hitherto  been  acquaii.ted,  a  few  ob- 
servations u|)on  this  subject  may  neither  be  impertinent  nor  unin- 
structive;  more  especially  as  they  are  connecieil  with  those  inter- 
nal causes  which  were  now  silently  mulermining  the  Roman  power. 
The  distinctions  of  personal  merit,  so  conspicuous  under  the 
republican  form  of  gc)vernment,  were  gradually  weakening  from 
the  time  that  the  imperial  dignity  arose,  and  now  were  almost 
totally  obliterated.  In  their  room  was  substituted  a  rigid  st.burdi- 
nation  of  rank  and  oflice,  which  went  through  all  the  departmcnta 
of  the  stale.  Every  rank  was  fixed,  its  dignity  was  displayed  in 
a  variety  of  trifling  ceremonies;  and,  as  Mr.  Gibbon  has  remark- 
ed, in  his  favorite  metaphoric  style,  "At  this  time  the  system  of 
the  Roman  government  might,  by  a  philosophic  observer,  have 
been  mistaken  for  a  sj)lendid   theatre  filled   with   players  ol   every 


Hist.  Cccl.,  tome  iii.  p.  233. 


512  u.vjv';;::,i'.i,    ii;storv.  [dook    v 

characlor  ami  (Ifgron,  who  r.-poaiod  llic  language  and  imitated  the 
nianiiers  of  tlie  oiiipc^ror,  their  original  niodel." 

The  cpiihi't  Illustrious,  which  hclonged  only  to  the  liighcst  ranks 
of  the  stale,  was  confcircd  upon  four  distinct  classes  of  oHicers  anrl 
magistrates:  1.  The  Consuls  and  Palricians;  2.  The  Pretoiian 
Prefects  of  Rome  and  Constantinople;  3.  The  Masters  General 
of  the  Cavalry  and  Inl;intry;  and  4.  The  Seven  Ministers  of  the 
Palace  who  exercised  their  sacred  functions  about  the  person  of  the 
emperor. 

The  ancient  consuls  were  chosen  by  the  suflragcs  of  the  people, 
and,  during  the  government  of  the  first  emperors,  by  the  real  or 
ai)parcnt  suffrage  of  the  senate;  but  from  the  reign  of  Diocletian, 
they  were  created  by  the  sole  authority  of  the  emperor.  A  mag- 
nificent festival  was  held  at  their  inauguration;  and  their  names  and 
portraits,  on  tables  of  ivory,  were  dispersed  to  all  the  provinces  and 
cities  of  the  empire;  but  they  had  not  a  shadow  of  power — they  no 
longer  presided  in  the  councils  of  the  state,  nor  executed  the  reso- 
lutions of  peace  or  war;  and  their  names  served  for  nothing  more 
than  to  give  the  legal  date  of  the  year. 

The  ancient  patrician  families  had  been  long  since  extinguished, 
and  every  dignity  and  distinction  which  arose  from  birth  had  been 
gradually  obliterated,  from  the  time  that  the  offices  of  state  had 
become  common  to  the  plebeians.  The  latter  emperors  preserved 
indeed  the  title  of  patricians,  but  it  was  now  a  personal  and  not 
an  hereditary  distinction.  It  was  bestowed  generally  on  their 
favorites  as  a  title  of  honor,  or  upon  ministers  and  magistrates  who 
had  grown  old  in  office. 

The  authority  of  the  pretorian  prefects  was  very  different  from 
such  nominal  and  inefficient  dignities.  From  the  time  that  the 
pretorian  bands  were  suppressed  by  Constantine,  these  haughty 
officers,  who  had  been  little  less  than  the  masters  of  the  empire, 
were  now  reduced  to  the  station  of  useful  and  obedient  ministers. 
They  had  lost  all  military  command;  but  they  became  the  civil 
magistrates  of  the  provinces.  The  empire  was  divided  under  four 
governors.  The  prefect  of  the  East  had  a  jurisdiction  from  the 
Nile  to  the  banks  of  the  river  Phasis  in  Colchis,  and  from  the 
mountains  of  Thrace  to  the  frontiers  of  Persia.  The  prefect  of 
Tllyrium,  or  lilyria,  governed  the  provinces  of  Pannonia,  Dacia, 
Macedonia,  and  Greece.  The  prefect  of  Italy  superintended  not 
only  that  country,  but  Rhastia,  as  far  as  the  banks  of  the  Danube, 
the  Mediterranean  islands,  and  the  opposite  coast  of  Africa.  The 
prefect  of  the  Gauls  governed  these  provinces,  and  likewise  Spain 
and  Britain.  These  officers  had  the  supreme  administration  of 
justice  and  of  the  finances.  They  watched  over  the  conduct  of 
the  provincial  magistrates,  removed  the  negligent,  and  inflicted 
punishments  on  the  guilty.  An  appeal  was  competent  to  them 
ffom  all  the  inferior  jurisdictions,  and  Constantine  disallowed  a::y 
appeal  from  their  sentemx-s  to  himself. 


'15-   III]  SYSTEM    OF    COXSTANTINE  613 

The  cjtics  of  Rome  and  Constantinople  were  exempted  from 
the  authority  of  the  pretorian  prefects.  Tliey  had  eacli  their 
own  i)refect,  who  was  the  supreme  magistrate  of  liie  city.  Tiiey 
were  presidents  of  the  city,  and  all  municipal  authority  was  de- 
rived from  them  alone.  They  had  the  superintendence  of  the 
police,  the  care  of  the  port,  the  aqueducts,  the  common  sewers, 
the  distribution  of  the  public  allowance  of  corn  and  provision.  A 
perfect  equality  was  established  between  these  dii^uitiL's  and  iJie 
four  pretorian  prefects. 

buch  were  the  magistrates  who  formed  the  first  class  in  the 
state,  which  was  termed  Ilhistrcs.  Inferior  to  these,  were  those 
magistrates  who  were  termed  Spectabilcs  Such  were  the  pro- 
oonsuls  of  Asia,  Acliaia,  and  Africa,  and  the  military  Counts  and 
Dukes  (  Comiies and  Daces)  or  generals  of  the  Imperial  armies. 

Tlie  third  class  of  the  magistrates,  inferior  to  the  two  former, 
had  the  denomination  of  Cldrisdmi.  This  class  consisted  of  the 
governors  of  the  provinces,  who  were  entrusted,  under  the  author 
ity  of  the  prefects  or  their  tieputies,  with  the  administration  of 
justice  and  the  management  of  the  finances  in  their  respective 
districts. 

The  supreme  jurisdiction  exercised  by  the  j)retonan  prefects 
over  the  armies  of  tlie  empire  was  afterwards  transferred  to  cigl:! 
Masters-General  of  the  cavalry  and  infantry.  Under  their  orders, 
thirty-five  military  commanders  were  stationed  in  the  provinces. 
These  were  distinguished  by  the  titles  of  Counts  and  Dukes,  and 
they  received  each,  besides  their  pay,  an  allowance  suflicienl  to 
maintain  190  servants,  and  IfjS  horses.  They  iiad  no  concern  in 
the  administration  of  justice  or  of  the  revenue  ;  but  they  exercised 
a  command  over  the  troops  independent  of  the  authority  of  the 
magistrates.  This  necessarily  created  a  divided  interest,  which 
relaxed  tlie  vigor  of  the  state.  The  civil  and  the  military  magis- 
trates could  have  no  good  understanding,  and  a  source  of  dissen- 
sion was  thus  established,  which  had  the  most  pernicious  conse- 
quences. 

Of  the  seven  Ministers  of  the  Palace,  who  wore  likewise  enti- 
tled to  the  rank  of  Illustrious,  the  first  was  the  PrarpoituSy  or 
Prefect  of  the  Bedchamber,  an  eunuch  whose  duty  was  lo  per- 
form aF.  the  menial  services  about  the  ernperor  ;  but  whose  office 
was  at  the  same  time  esteemed  so  honorable  as  to  rank  Ijcfore  the 
jiroconsuls  of  Greece  or  Asia — a  strong  mark  of  the  corruption  of 
manners.  The  second  of  the  ministers  entitled  to  the  same  rank 
was  the  Master  of  the  Offices,  who  had  the  principal  administra- 
tion of  public  affairs — a  sort  of  Secretary  of  State,  bavin;  suljor 
dinate  to  him  a  great  manv  other  secretaries,  who  had  cac  h  their 
diflerent  department.  The  third  was  the  Quaistor.  In  soim?  re- 
spects his  office  resembled  that  of  a  modern  cliancellnr :  he  was 
the  month  of  the  emperor  in  pronouncing  his  edicts,  an>l  In*  pre- 
pared the  form  and  style  of  the  imperial  laws.  The  louith  was 
vol..   I.  6.5 


514  UMVEiisAL  insTouT,  [book,  r 

llic  CoimPof  tlio  Sacred  Largesses,  or  the  treasuitjr-gencral  of  the 
rcveiuii;,  iiiulor  uhoii)  were  twenty-nine  provincial  receivers.  His 
jurisdiction  extended  over  the  mines,  over  the  mint,  and  even 
over  the  public  treasuries.  He  likewise  directed  all  the  linen  and 
woollen  manufactures.  Linen,  it  must  be  observed,  though  not 
anciently  in  use  among  the  Romans,  had  beconie  a  common  wear 
for  the  women  even  in  the  time  of  the  elder  Pliny.  The  fifth 
inini;;ter  of  the  palace  was  the  Count  or  Treasurer  of  the  Private 
Estate,   whose  oflice  was  to  administer   that  revenue  of  the    em- 

Eeror  which  arose  from  his  domain  or  territorial  property,  which 
e  had  in  most  of  the  provinces,  and  from  the  confiscationr,  and 
forfeitures.  The  sixth  and  seventh  were  the  two  Counts  of  the 
Domestics,  who  conmianded  those  bands  of  cavalry  and  infantry 
which  guarded  the  emperor's  person.  The  number  of  these  troops 
amounted  to  3,500  men. 

The  intercourse  between  the  court  and  provinces  was  maintain- 
ed by  the  construction  of  roads,  and  by  the  institution  of  Posts  ; 
but  these  establishmenl.j  paved  the  way  for  a  most  intolerable 
abuse.  Some  hundred  agents,  who  were  afterwards  increased  to 
some  thousands,  were  employed,  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
masters  of  the  offices,  to  announce  the  names  of  the  annual  con- 
suls, and  to  report  the  edicts  of  the  emperor  through  all  the  prov 
inces.  These  people  were,  in  fact,  nothing  else  but  the  spies  of 
government — wlio  w-ere  encouiaged,  by  rewards,  to  communicate 
from  time  to  time  all  sorts  of  intelligence  from  the  remote  corners 
of  the  empire  to  its  chief  seat ;  to  watch  the  progress  of  all  trea- 
sonable designs,  and  discover  such  persons  as  they  should  find 
harboring  any  symptom  of  disaffection ;  they  were  consequently 
the  objects  of  terror  and  of  consummate  hatred  :  circumstances 
which  prevented  their  employment  from  being  ever  accepted, 
unless  by  men  of  bad  character  and  desperate  fortune,  who  exer- 
cised without  scruple  the  most  unjust  and  insolent  0|)pression. 

Every  institution  was  now  calculated  to  support  the  fabric  of 
despotism.  The  use  of  torture,  from  which,  in  the  happier  days 
of  the  Roman  government,  every  one  who  enjoyed  the  }irivi  eges 
of  a  citizen  was  exempted,  began  now  to  be  employed  without 
regard  to  this  distinction  ;  in  place  of  which  a  few  special  exemp- 
tions were  granted  by  the  emperor  in  favor  of  those  of  the  rank 
of  illustres,  of  bishops  and  professors  of  the  liberal  arts,  soldiers, 
municipal  officers,  and  children  under  the  age  of  puberty  ;  but 
these  exceptions  sanctified  the  use  of  torture  in  all  other  cases. 

To  these  grievances  may  be  added  the  oppressive  taxes.  The 
word  indidion,  which  serves  to  ascertain  the  chronology  of  the 
middle  ages,  was  derived  from  the  practice  of  the  emperor's  sign 
ing  with  his  own  hand  an  edict  prescribing  the  annual  measure  of 
the  tribute  to  be  levied,  and  the  term  allowed  for  payment  of  it 
The  measure  or  quantity  was  ascertained  by  a  census^  or  survey, 
made    by   persons    appointed    for    that   purpose,    through    all    the 


CII.   HI.]  SYSTEM    or   CONSTA.NTIN  P..  613 

provinces,  u  !io  measured  the  lands,  took  account  of  their  nature, 
whether  arable,  pasture,  wood,  or  vineyard,  and  made  an  esmnaie 
of  their  medium  value,  from  an  average  produce  of  five  years. 
The  numbers  of  slaves  and  of  cattle  were  likewise  reported,  and 
the  proprie:ors  were  examined  on  their  oath  as  to  the  true  state 
of  their  alFiiirs.  Part  of  the  tribute  specified  by  the  indiciion  was 
paid  in  money,  and  part  in  the  produce  of  the  lands;  and  so  ex- 
orbitant were  these  taxes,  that  the  husbandmen  found  it  their 
interest  to  let  their  fields  lie  uncultivated,  as  the  burdens  increased 
in  a  greater  proportion  to  the  produce  than  their  profits.  Hence 
the  agriculture  of  the  Roman  provinces  was  almost  ruined,  and 
pop'ilaiion,   which  keeps  |)ace  with  plenty,  graduajy  diminished. 

But  not  only  were  the  proprietors  of  land  borne  down  by  the 
weight  of  their  taxes:  the  burden  was  eqiiaily  severe  on  all  classes 
of  the  citizens.  Every  branch  of  commercial  industry  paid  its 
rated  tribute.  A.\\  the  objects  of  merchandise,  whether  of  home 
growth  31  of  importaiion,  ail  the  products  of  arts  and  manufactures, 
were  higlily  taxed;  and  as  the  tribute  on  land  was  made  ellcctual 
by  the  seizure  of  personal  property,  that  on  personal  properly  was 
enforced  by  corporal  punishments.  The  cruel  treatment  ol  the 
insolvent  debtors  of  the  stale,  which,  under  some  of  the  former 
emperors,  had  reached  the  height  of  barbarity,  was,  however,  inil- 
iga'ed  by  an  edict  of  Consiantine,  in  wliicii  he  disclaims  the  use 
of  racks  and  scourges  for  the  i)unishment  of  debtors,  and  idiots  a 
spacious  prison  for  their  confinement. 

To  these  supplies  of  the  imperial  revenue  must  be  added  those 
donations,  called  Free  Gifts,  from  the  several  cities  and  provinces 
of  the  monarchy,  which  it  was  customary  to  bestow  as  often  as 
the  emperor  announced  his  accession,  his  consulshi|),  the  birdi  of 
a  son,  the  creation  of  a  Cssar,  a  victory  over  the  bajl)ariatis,  or 
any  other  event  of  great  im|)ortance.  These,  which  were  now 
presents  of  money,  came  in  place  of  the  ancient  ollerings  of  crowns 
of  gold  made  by  the  cities  of  Italy  to  a  victorious  general.  The 
free  gift  of  the  senate  of  Rome,  upon  such  occasions  as  we  havo 
mentioned,  amounted  to  KiOO  pounds  weight  of  gol«l,  (ai»oul 
jE(3i,0'JO  sterling,)  and  the  oilier  cities  of  the  empire,  we  may 
su|)pose,  paid  in  proportion. 

But  none  of  the  institutions  of  Constantino  were  so  fatal  to  tlie 
empire  as  those  which  he  introduced  into  the  military  discipline. 
A  distinction  was  established  between  the  troops  which  were  sta- 
tioned in  the  remote  |)rovinces,  and  those  which  remained  in  the 
heart  of  the  empire,  the  latter  were  termed  Palatiius,  by  way 
of  superiority,  and  enjoyed  a  much  lii;:her  pay,  which  enabled 
them,  except  in  time  of  war,  to  indidge  themselves  in  idleness, 
indolence,  and  every  species  of  luxury.  The  former,  Canned  iht 
Bonlerers — who,  in  fact,  had  the  care  of  the  empire,  and  were 
exposed  to  perpetual  dangers — had  a  very  small  allowance  of 
pay,  witJi  the  mortification  of  feeling  themselves  held  of  inferior 


616  UNIVERSAL    IUSTOHT.  [liOOK   V 

consi(ler;jlion,  and  thus  were,  In  fact,  noiliing  clhc  lliaii  llie  s'aves 
of  a  (Jes|)ot.  Consianiine  likewise,  from  the  timid  policy  of  secur- 
ing against  mutinies  and  insurrections  among  the  trooj)s — which 
were  extremely  formidable  while  the  legion  contained  its  ancient 
niimhcr  of  5,000,  G, 000,  or  even  8,000  or  9,000  men — reduced  the 
number  of  men  in  the  legion  to  1,000  or  to  1,500;  so  that  each  of 
tliese  weakened  bodies,  awed  by  the  sense  of  h^  own  imbecility, 
could  now  attempt  no  conspiracy  that  was  formidable.  The  whole 
body  of  the  army  was  likewise  debased  by  the  intermixture  of  the 
barbarian  nations,  the  Scythians,  Goths,  and  Germans,  who  hence- 
forth bore  a  very  great  proportion  in  each  of  the  legions. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  Roman  empire  at  the  time  of  the 
tran  lation  of  its  seat  from  Rome  to  Constantinople.  An  author- 
ity, vigorously  despotic,  preserved,  as  yet,  the  union  of  this  im- 
mense mass,  which  was  laboring  internally  with  the  seeds  of  cor- 
ruption and  dissolution.  In  the  capital  of  the  empire,  the  Roman 
name  owed  its  chief  lustre  now  to  pomp  and  magnificence — a  poor 
substitute  for  that  real  dignity,  derived,  in  former  times,  from  its 
heroic  and  patriotic  virtues. 

Constantine,  with  a  very  destructive  policy,  had  divided  the 
empire  among  no  less  than  five  princes;  three  of  them  his  sons, 
and  two  nephews.  Constantius,  the  youngest  and  most  ambitious 
of  the  sons,  soon  got  rid  of  the  nephews.  They  were  massacred 
by  the  soldiers,  along  with  many  others  of  his  relations,  and  sev- 
eral of  the  principal  courtiers.  The  brothers  quarrelled  among 
themselves;  the  two  elder,  Constans  and  Constantinus,  took  up 
arms,  and  the  latter  falling  in  battle,  Constans  became  sole  master 
of  the  Western  empire.  This,  however,  he  did  not  long  enjoy, 
being  soon  after  assassinated  by  Magnentius,  a  German. 

Cons'antius  was  now  possessed  of  undivided  legal  authority, 
but  had  a  formidable  rival  in  Magnentius,  whose  party  was  much 
increased,  for  while  the  emperor  indolently  occupied  himself  in 
theological  controversies,  his  best  troops  had  sided  with  the  usurper. 
Constantius  made  a  dastardly  offer  of  peace,  which  Magnentius 
rejected,  and  an  engagement  followed,  which  decided  the  fate  of 
tlie  empire.  Constantius  was  successful,  though  he  had  not  dared 
to  take  the  field  in  person,  but  waited  the  event  of  the  battle  in  a 
neighboring  church.  Magnentius  took  refuge  in  Gaul,  where, 
being  surrounded  by  the  imperial  legions,  he,  in  a  transport  of  de- 
spair, murdered  his  mother  and  several  of  his  relations,  and  then 
stabbed  himself  with  his  own  hand. 

Two  nephews  of  Constantine  had  escaped  that  massacre  of  his 
kindred  by  which  Constantius  had  secured  to  himself  an  undivi  led 
empire  :  those  were  Gallus  and  Julian.  The  former,  Constantius 
honored  with  the  dignity  of  Cnrsar,  and  a[ipointed  the  city  of  An- 
tioch  for  his  residence,  where  for  a  short  time  he  ruled  the  eastern 
provinces  with  a  violent  and  tyrannical  authority.  Constantius, 
governed    at    that  time   by  the  eunuch  Euscbius,  was   persuaded 


A.  D.  35.3.]  ii;i.iAN.  5n 

that  Gallui,  by  liis  enormities,  liad  rciiJered  I.miseir  ciiiuorthv  of 
the  dignity  to  which  lie  had  raised  him.  He  sent  an  order  for 
Galhis  to  repair  to  the  imperial  court,  then  at  Milan,  which  that 
prince  did  not  dare  to  disobey.  He  was  instantly  deprived  of  his 
guards,  hurried  to  prison,  and  beheaded  like  the  meanest  male- 
factor. 

A  variety  of  civil  broils,  mutinies  of  the  troops  against  their 
generals,  had  weakened  the  force  of  the  armies,  and  left  the  west- 
ern frontier  to  the  mercy  of  the  barbarians.  The  Franks,  Saxons, 
and  Aiemanni  ravaged  the  Gauls,  and  destroyed  forty-five  cities 
on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  Pannonia  and  Muesia  were  laid  waste 
by  the  Sarmatians,  while  the  Persians  made  dreadful  incursions 
upon  the  eastern  empire.  Constantius  was  wholly  occupied  with 
his  religious  controversies;  but  was  fortunately  j)revailed  on  by 
his  empress  lo  take  one  measure  most  conducive  to  the  general 
safety,  which  was  lo  confer  on  his  cousin  Julian  the  title  and  dig- 
nity of  Ca?sar. 

This  prince,  bad  he  appeared  in  any  other  era  than  that  in  which 
two  opposite  religions  were  contending  for  pre-eminence,  would 
have  shone  as  a  very  illustrious  character.  He  possessed  many 
heroic  qualities,  and  his  mind  was  formed  by  nature  to  promote 
the  greatness  and  the  happiness  of  an  empire.  He  had  couipleted 
his  studies  at  Constantinople  and  at  Athens.  In  the  latter  city, 
the  conversation  of  the  Platonic  philosophers  had  given  him  a 
strong  distaste  for  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  in  which  he  had 
^ecn  educated;  and  wiiat,  unfortunately  riveted  his  avcr.-ion,  was 
the  example  of  his  cousin,  Constantius. 

Constantius  named  Julian  C(csar  at  the  age  of  twenty-three, 
and  appointed  him  governor  of  Gaul;  but  with  few  troops,  little 
money,  and  a  very  limited  command;  accountable  to  a  set  of 
veteran  officers,  whom  the  emperor  appointed  for  his  counsellors. 
Under  all  these  disadvantages  he  soon  showed  distinguishec 
abilities. 

In  the  first  year  of  his  government  he  studied  the  art  of  war  ai 
Vienna,  applied  himself  with  ardor  lo  the  discipline  of  his  troujis, 
and  partook  himself,  with  hi?  soldiers,  of  every  fatigue  to  which 
the  meanest  were  subjected.  Two  imporlant  objects  were  thus 
obtained — a  well-regulated  army,  and  a  devotetl  aireclion  of  lite 
lroo|)s  to  the  person  of  their  commander.  With  these  advantages- 
he  soon  signalized  his  military  tal.'uts.  He  drove  the  barliarians 
out  of  Gaid,  and  carried  the  li-rror  of  his  arms  bcyt)r)d  the  limits 
of  the  fronliiM'.  Constantius,  in  his  conclave  of  bi^bop';,  arrogntcd 
to  himself  the  honor  of  these  vi(  tories,  and  was  employed  in  lir)!d- 
ing  ecclesiastical  councils,  while  Sapor,  the  Persian,  with  a  for- 
midable army,  broke  in  upon  M(.'sopoiamia.  Julian  was  now 
become  an  object  of  jealousy  to  him  :  with  a  view  of  disarming 
him,  lie  ordered  him  to  send  the  best  of  his  troops  to  Constanti- 
nople, to  serve  against   the   Persians;   by  which  means   so   incon- 


518  UMVLKSAI.    IlIbTORY.  [nOOK    f 

sidoralilc  a  liantlful  wonhJ  icniaiii  uiili  ihclr  ronimandcr,  that  tho 
barhaiiaiis,  uiili  ease  and  inipuiiiiy,  could  Ijavu  regained  what  iliey 
had  lost. 

Jidian  prepared  to  obey,  but  tho  army  took  an  opposite  measure; 
ihey  proclaimed  him  emperor,  and  foi'ced  him,  apparently  nnuil- 
ling,  to  accept  the  pini)le.*  He  still  preserved  the  show  of  alle- 
giance, and  wrote  to  Consianiiiis,  informing  him  of  the  proceedings 
of  the  army,  and  of  the  impossibility  of  removing  them  frotn  the 
province  without  their  commander.  Conslantius,  with  amazing 
folly,  only  repeated  his  orders  in  a  more  peremptory  style;  and 
Julian,  congratulating  himself  that  every  scruple  of  honor  was 
satisfied,  openly  shook  of!"  his  submission,  and  took  the  field  to 
mainiain  his  right  to  the  empire.  He  marched  with  rapidity  into 
Greece.  Italy  was  his  own,  and  every  thing  submitted  to  his 
arms.  Coustanlius  escaped  the  ignontiny  that  awaited  him,  by 
dying  at  this  juncture  of  a  fever  in  Cilicia. 

Julian  was  now  acknowledged  through  the  whole  empire.  He 
began  his  reign  by  the  reformation  of  a  variety  of  civil  abuses  in 
the  diderent  departments  of  the  state,  abolishing  superfluous  ofllces, 
and  striking  at  the  root  of  luxury  by  sumptuary  laws.  He  now 
gave  a  loose  to  his  hatred  against  Christianity,  but  attacked  that 
religion  by  a  policy  far  more  pernicious  than  open  persecution. 
He  began  by  reforming  the  Pagan  theology;  and  arilully  attend- 
mg  to  tlie  great  difierence  between  th.at  and  the  Christian  religion, 
which,  to  the  purest  doctrines  of  faith,  joined  the  most  excellent 
system  of  morality,  he  endeavored  to  give  Paganism  that  morality 
which  it  wanted,  thence  confessing  the  excellence  of  Christianity 
by  adopting  its  sublimest  precepts.  He  drew  up  himself  a  plan 
of  conduct  for  the  priests,  recommending  to  them  a  purity  of  life 
and  uncorru})ted  integrily;  thus  to  enforce  by  their  examj;)le  the 
doctrines    which    they    sought   to    inculcate. f      Certain    modern 


•  The  rircumslnncps  attending  this  event  are  extremely  well  painted  by  Mr 
Gihhon,  Didiuemid  Fall,  eh.  22. 

i  The  4!Hh,  ()2d,  and  l>:]d  I'pistles  of  Julian,  and  a  separate  fragment  on  the 
same  subject,  give  a  very  strong  picture  of  his  zeal  for  pagan  reformation.  "  The 
e.xercise  of  the  sacred  functions,"  says  Julian.  •'  requiresan  iumiaculate  purity  both 
of  mind  and  hody  ;  and  even  when  the  piie>t  is  dismissed  from  the  temple  to  the 
occupations  of  common  life,  it  is  incumbent  on  him  to  excel  in  decency  and 
virtue  ihe  rest  of  his  fellow  citizens.  He  shotild  never  be  seen  in  theatres  or 
taverns.  His  conversation  should  be  chaste,  his  diet  temperate,  his  friends  of 
honora!)le  reputation.  His  studies  should  be  suited  to  Ihe  sanctity  of  liis  profession. 
Licentious  tales  or  comedies,  or  satires,  mu^t  be  banished  from  his  library,  v»-hich 
ought  sr)!ely  to  consist  of  historical  and  piiilosophical  writings;  of  historv  which 
is  founded  in  truth,  and  of  philosophy  wliicli  is  connected  with  relirrion.  The 
impious  orations  of  the  Epicureans  and  Skeptics  deserve  his  ablmrn-nce  and 
contempt;  but  he  should  diligenlly  study  the  .systems  of  Pythagoras,  of  I'lato.  and 
of  the  Stoics,  which  unanimously  leach  lluit  there  nre  isods  ;  that  the  world  is 
eoverned  by  thrir  jirovidence  ;  that  thvir  jroodness  is  the  source  of  every  temi)orai 
blessing;  and  that  Ikeij  hare  prepared  for  die  human  soul  a  future  stale  of  reward 
or  punishment  " 


i.  D.  362.]  JULIAN.  519 

writers,  uiifriendlv  to  our  religion,  liave  CiilargcJ,  wi'.li  iiv.icli 
apparent  satisfaction,  on  the  great  clemency  and  rnotleraiion 
wliicli  Julian  showed  in  his  treainienl  of  the  Christians. — afl'eciing 
not  to  perceive  that  this  seeming  clemency  and  moderation  wai 
the  most  artful  and  the  most  dangerous  policy  that  could  have 
then  been  employed  a2;ainst  them  ;  for  let  us  observe  how  Julian 
conducted  himself,  lie  forbade  the  persecution  of  the  Christians, 
whom  he  represented  as  deluded  men.  the  objects  of  compassion, 
not  of  punishment;  but  declared,  at  the  same  time,  that  tlicir 
frenzy  incapacitated  ihein  from  all  employments,  civil  or  military. 
Their  law,  he  said,  prohibited  all  quarrels  and  dissensions  ;  it  was 
not,  therefore,  necessary  that  they  should  have  the  benefit  of  courts 
of  justice  to  decide  their  dillcrences.  He  prohibited  ihem  from 
teaching  or  learning  grammar,  rhetoric,  or  philosophy.  These, 
he  said,  were  pagan  sciences,  treated  of  by  authors  whose  princi- 
ples the  Christians  were  tauglit  to  abhor,  and  whose  l>oi)ks  con- 
tained tenets  which  must  shuck  the  pure  morality  of  tht'ir  religion. 
It  is  easy  to  perceive  that  this  artful  and  insidious  mode  of  attack 
was,  in  reality,  much  more  destructive  than  the  most  sangtiinary 
persecution. 

This  conduct  of  Julian  would  s?cm  to  argue  a  disposition  at 
least  entirely  free  from  any  tincture  of  superstition,  and  careless  of 
all  religion  ;  but,  in  fact,  Julian  was,  as  a  pagan,  blinded  by  tho 
most  bigoted  superstition.  His  bi^lief  in  omens  was  ridiculous  ; 
his  sacrifices  were  so  numerous,  that  cattle  were  wanting  to  su[>ply 
him  with  victims.*  The  expense  of  these  religious  rites  became 
burdensome  to  the  state,  and  was  universally  complained  of.f  He 
was  even  accused  of  tlie  horrid  abomination  of  human  sacrifices 
His  cntiuisiasm  and  fanaiicism,  acknowledged  even  by  his  greatest 
pane<:;yrists,  "almost  degrade  him  to  the  level  of  an  R;;y|)tian 
,„onk." — "  Notwithstanding  his  own  modest  silencenpon  the  -sub- 
ject, (says  Mr.  Gibbon,)  we  may  learn  from  his  faithful  friend, 
the  orator  Libauius,  that  he  lived  in  h  perpetual  intercour.se  with 
the  gods  and  goddesses  ;  that  they  descended  upon  earth  to  enjoy 
the  conversation  of  their  favorite  hero  ;  that  they  gently  interrupted 
his  slumbers  by  touching  bis  hand  or  his  hair ;  that  diov  warned 
biiii  of  any  impending  danger,  and  conducted  him  by  their  iiifalh- 


*  Ammianus,  tlioucrh  a  pair»n  liimsi-lf,  and  an  admir.T  of  the  clwnclrr  of 
JiiTian,  jusUy  censur's  this  put  -f  h'.-*  r.-iidiirt  :-•  H.>«li  irunHam.-n  M.i^Mi.no 
pluriiiio  aiaH  crcbrilalo  nimin  pprfundrbal,  la»ir.!«  aliqii'  tii-»  imm..lan.l..  r,n. 
ten.«,  ct  innuincr.)s  varii  pi-ori-*  irrcsjps,  avosciiii"  ciiidida'*  Irrra  qii  !•••«.->•  ri 
mari  "  \tid  lie  describes  tlu-  sMu-r*  riolinij  upon  ill.-  fl<-»h  <.f  thi-  nacr.lici**, 
and  daily  -r.rTin.r  llicinsflv.-H  w.ili  ill  .sc  daiiilirs  and  with  .Iron?  l-i-iir..  w 
that  tiK-v  wcri-'fr'nuontly  carri.-d  t..  tli.-ir  n<iarlrn  on  ihi-  i.hould.Tii  of  tlir  pw- 
sen^crs.  The  eni'.y.nonl  nf  s,i.;h  Invd  ...h  vv...i1  I  v.tv  *M^n  convrrl  iUr  .r.ny 
tothe  leliiTionof  l''..«ir  s.v.T.-i;,ni.      V.d     Anrnun   1    xx.i    c    IV.. 

f  A.nnianus  co  np.i res  l.i.n  in  this  r,'^\^'-\  t..  M..tr..»  i  a",^T  lo  whom  UyB 
cattle  were  feiirned  to  have  innde  thu  l.idicro.is  r..inpUml :-"  The  while  oic« 
lo  Marcui  CcDsar  ;  If  you  conquer,  wo  arc   undone." 


620  UNIVEIISAI,      IIISTOUY.  |^nO(JlC    V 

ble  wisdom  in  every  aclioii  of  his  life  ;  and  that  he  had  accjiiired 
siicii  an  intin)ale  ivno\vlcdj;e  of  his  heavenly  i;uesis,  as  readily  to 
dislinj;ni.,li  die  voice  of  Jdpiter  from  dial  of  Minerva,  and  die  lorm 
of  Apollo  from  the  figure  of  IlercLiles."  In  short,  diis  wise  and 
j)hiloso|)liic  oinjieror  was,  in  matters  of  religion,  one  of  the  weakest, 
most  bigoted,  and  sui)erslilious  of  mankind. 

Fortunately  for  Christianity,  he  died  at  a  very  early  age.  He 
intended  to  revenge  the  injuries  which  the  empire  had  sustained 
from  Sapor,  and  prepared  to  carry  war  into  the  heart  of  Asia. 
After  a  dangerous  march  through  Assyria,  and  the  siege  and  re- 
duction of  some  of  the  principal  towns,  he  advanced  to  the  banks 
of  the  Tigris.  Here,  in  an  engagement  with  the  Persians,  Julian 
was  slain  at  the  age  of  thirty-one. 

It  is  generally  acknowledged  that  he  had  uncommon  talents,  and 
many  of  the  virtues  of  a  great  prince  ;  had  not  these  virtues  and 
great  talents  been  disgraced  by  bis  inveterate  hatred  to  Christiani- 
ty, from  the  doctrines  of  which  religion  he  had  early  apostatiz.ed.* 
Julian's  attempt  to  rebuild  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  is  well 
known.  The  supernatural  check  said  to  have  been  given  to  that 
attempt  by  an  eruption  of  flames  from  the  earth  has  occasioned 
much  learned  theological  controversy.  I  shall  not  enter  into  the 
question  ;  but  must  remark  that  the  story  is  related  by  Julian's 
own  friendly  historian,  Ammianus,f  a  sincere  pagan,  whose  evi- 
dence in  this   matter  is  therefore  less  suspicious. 

The  death  of  Julian  struck  despair  into  the  hearts  of  the  Ro- 
man army.  A  leader,  however,  was  immediately  required,  and 
the  choice  fell  upon  Jovian,  a  captain  in  the  domestic  guards 
Though  luxurious  and  even  dissolute  in  his  manners,  he  possessed 
many  excellent  qualities.  A  negotiation  with  Sapor  was  in  the 
pi'esent  conjuncture  absolutely  necessary.  But  the  Persian,  con- 
fident of  his  advantages,  insisted  on  terms  dishonorable  to  the 
Romans.     He  demanded  five  provinces  to  be  restored,  which  had 


"  Prudentius  gives  the  following  very  just  and  impartial  character  of  Julian 

"  Ductor  fortissimxis  annis, 

Conditor  et  legum  celeberrirnus  ;  ore  maniique 
Consultor  pallia; ;  sed  non  consultor  liabendae 
Reli^ionis,  amans  tercenlClin  niillia  Diviim  : 
Perfidua  ille  Deo:  sed  non  perfidiis  orbi." 

Prudent.  Apotii.  45i\  Sec. 

t  Dr.  Ilowel,  in  his  valuable  History  of  the  World,  has  given  the  life  of 
Julian  almost  in  the  words  of  Ammianus  Marcellinus,  who  was  an  officer  in 
Julian's  army,  and  a  witness  of  all  his  e.tploits ;  an  impartial  biographer,  for 
he  blames  as  well  as  praises. — The  abilities  of  Julian  are  sufficiently  proved  by 
his  own  literary  compositions.  In  his  Satire,  termed  the  .\fisojiotron,  or  Beard- 
hater,  he  paint-' his  own  character  with  freedom  and  with  wit;  and  we  learn  more 
fiom  it,  of  the  real  dispositions  of  this  singular  man,  than  from  the  narratives  of 
his  historians.  (The  Misopogrnn  is  well  abridged  bv  Dr.  Ilowel,  vol.  ii  c.  i  s. 
r>.)  His  moral  fable,  entitled  ?/ie  Citsars,  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  in 
elructive  productions  of  ancient  wit.  For  an  abstract  of  it.  see  Gibbon's  De- 
cline and   Fall,  chap.  '24. 


L.    D.    363.]  VAI.ENTINIA.V    A.ND    VALENS.  5?l 

been  ceded  by  his  grandfallicr  to  Galerlus ;  and  required,  besides, 
several  towns  in  Mesopotamia.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
grant  these  conditions,  though  the  empire  agreed  to  them  with 
general  dissatisfaction. 

Jovian,  having  thus  secured  a  peace,  applied  himself  with  zeal 
to  the  liappiness  of  his  subjects.  He  favored  Christianity,  and 
sought  to  heal  the  wounds  which  that  religion  had  received  from 
his  predecessor.  He  showed,  in  the  means  which  he  adopted  for 
))romoting  it,  a  policy  equally  artful  with  that  of  Julian  for  its  de- 
struction. In  a  council  which  he  assembled  at  Aniioch,  he  declar- 
ed his  resolution  that  no  man  should  be  molested  on  account  of 
his  religious  tenets.  He  recalled  the  banished  Christians,  ad- 
mitting them  with  the  pagans,  equally,  to  the  exercise  of  all  pub- 
lic employments ;  these  commencements  promised  a  happy  reign ; 
but  the  hopes  of  the  empire  were  blasted  as  soon  as  they  were 
formed,  for  Jovian  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-three,  after  a  reign 
only  of  seven  months.* 

The  army  then  in  Bithynia  chose  Valentinian  for  their  empe- 
ror— a  man  of  obscure  birth,  but  of  considerable  military  reputa- 
tion. He  was  illiterate,  severe  in  his  inanners,  and  excessively 
avaricious ;  yet  in  other  respects  deserving  of  the  throne.  As 
soon  as  he  was  elected,  he  was  urged  to  name  a  colleague.  "You 
have  elected  me,"  said  he,  "your  emperor;  it  is  now  my  prov- 
ince to  command,  and  it  is  yours  to  obey.  I  shall  choose  for  my- 
self a  colleague,  whom  I  think  proper,  and  when  I  judge  expedi- 
ent." He  afterwards  named  his  brother  Valens,  to  whom  he 
gave  the  dominion  of  the  East,  reserving  to  himself  the  West. 
Valens  had  to  oppose  Sapor,  who  now  attempted  the  conquest  ot 
Armenia  ;  and  Valentinian  the  barbarians,  who  poured  down  upon 
the  western  empire  from  every  quarter.  Previous,  however,  to 
any  warlike  expedition,  Valentinian  thought  it  necessary  to  estab- 
lish a  good  political  arrangement  at  home.  The  clergy  had  for- 
merly been  exempted  from  taxes,  but  Valentinian  thought  that,  as 
the  interest  of  the  state  was  the  concern  of  all  its  members,  no 
order  should  be  privileged.  Though  a  Christian  liimself,  his  zeai 
was  subservient  to  policy.  He  interfered  in  no  theological  dis- 
putes, leaving  these  to  be  determined  by  the  clergy  ;  and  so  far 
was  he  from  persecuting  the  pagans,  that  he  allowed  them  an  un- 
limited toleration.  These  prudent  measures  prevented  all  reli- 
gious disturbances;  and  the  Christian  religion  silently  made  greater 
progress  than  if  it  had  been  intemperately  promoted  by  the  ardor 
of  a  zealot. 

Valentinian  now  marched  into  Gaul,  and  repelled  the  .\lemanni 


•The    nccounts  of  his  doalB  nrp  various.     Ammianiis   wiyn,  "  lie  wa«   rwffn. 
caled  in  his  sleep,  eitlirr  by  the  vapor  of  a  nowly-plastcrfil  room  or  Ihc  tinok* 
of  coals  »  or  that  he  died  of  a  surfeit." — Amraian.  xxv.  10. 
VOL.   I.  06 


522  UNIVERSAL    HISTORY.  [bOOK  V 

and  oiher  barbarous  tribes,  in  a  series  of  successful  engagements. 
In  these,  liowever,  the  severity  of  his  disposition  was  rigorously 
feh,  and  tiie  Roman  name  was  disgraced  by  many  atrocious 
actions. 

ValctHinian  gave  peace  to  tlic  Western  empire  ;  but  the  East 
was  (lislracled  by  the  imprudent  zeal  of  Valens,  who,  intempcrately 
promoting  the  cause  of  Arianism,  invited  a  swarm  of  enemies  upon 
the  empire  who,  in  the  end,  entirely  subverted  it.  These  were 
the  Goihs,  a  people  originally  inhabiting  the  country  of  Scandi- 
navia, which  the  ancient  authors  have  termed  the  nursery  of  the 
human  race  ;  ojficxna  humani  generis.  Montesquieu  accounts  for 
those  prodigious  inundations  from  the  North,  which  argue  an  aston- 
ishing populousness  of  those  countries  which  sent  them  out,  by 
saying,  "  that  the  violence  of  the  Romans  had  forced  the  peoples 
of  the  South  to  retire  to  the  North,"  and  that  they  now  regorged 
upon  the  empire  ;*  but  we  know  of  no  violences  equal  to  the 
production  of  that  effect,  and  the  barbarians  who  invaded  the 
empire  retained  no  traces  of  a  southern  origin,  but  showed,  m 
their  manners,  customs,  and  laws,  a  genius  and  character  entirely 
their  own  and  strongly  distinct  from  that  of  the  nations  of  the 
South.  Some  centuries  before  the  Christian  era,  the  Goths  had 
emigrated  from  the  North  ;  and  some  of  their  tribes,  the  Vandals, 
Heruli,  and  Lombards,  had  established  themselves  in  Germany. 
In  the  second  century,  a  vast  body  had  fixed  their  residence  on 
the  banks  of  the  Palus  Ma^otis  ;  and  had  thence  extended  their 
conquests  with  great  rapidity.  Under  the  reign  of  Valens,  they 
took  possession  of  the  province  of  Dacia,  and  were  distinguished 
by  the  appellation  of  Ostrogoths  and  Visigoths,  or  Eastern  and 
Western  Goths — the  first  inhabiting  the  coasts  of  the  Euxine  Sea, 
and  towards  the  mouth  of  the  Danube  ;  the  latter  dwelling  along 
the  banks  of  that  river.  They  were  a  remarkable  people  ;  and 
their  manners,  laws,  government,  and  customs  are  hi.s;hly  deserv- 
ing of  particular  attention,  as  the  great  fountain  from  which  the 
manners  and  policy  of  all  the  European  nations  are  at  this  day 
derived.  It  will  not,  therefore,  be  impertinent  to  bestow  some 
time  m  giving  a  particular  view  of  this  people,  which  I  shall  do 
when  I  have  brought  the  Roman  history  to  its  period. 

Julian  had  despised  these  invaders,  and  the  terror  of  his  name 
had  kept  them  quiet  during  h"s  reign.  Procopius,  the  cousm  of 
Julian,  had  attempted  to  wrest  the  throne  from  Valens,  and  ob- 
tained for  that  purpose  the  assistance  of  the  Goths  ;  but  that  em- 
peror engaged  them  with  success  and  compelled  them  to  repass  the 
Danube.  Valentinian,  in  the  meantime,  engaged  with  the  Ale- 
manni  in  Germany,  died  upon  that  expedition,  and  was  succeeded 
by  Gratian,  his  eldest  son,  who  was  then  in  the  sixteenth  year  of 


Mont.   Grand,  et  Dccad.,  cliap.  xvi 


CH,  III.j  THE    HUNS,  623 

his  age.  He  had  borne  the  title  of  Augiisius  from  his  nimlj  year, 
and  his  right  to  the  empire  was  not  disputed.  Tiie  army  joined 
with  him  his  brother,  Valentinian  II.,  an  infant  four  years  old. 
The  yonth  and  inexperience  of  Gratian  led  him,  in  ilie  bc-inning 
of  his  reign,  to  authorize  some  tyrannical  and  cruel  acts,  uliich  ai>- 
j)eared  contrary  to  his  natural  disijosition.  Valens,  in  the  mean 
time,  in  the  East  filled  the  empire  with  daily  exam|)les  of  vice  and 
tyranny.  He  was  detested  by  his  subjects,  and  consequently  ex- 
posed to  frequent  conspiracies,  which,  in  their  punishment,  gave 
fresli  display  to  his  sanguinary  disjjosition. 

While  the  Eastern  empire  thus  groaned  under  a  vicious  prnicc, 
a  new  race  of  barbarians  came  down  from  the  North  in  a  resistless 
torrent,  which  aftected  almost  every  quarter  of  Europe.  These 
were  the  Huns,  a  race  of  Tartars  or  Siberians — unknown  till  then 
by  the  European  nations  ;  though  they  had  long  before  that  jieriod 
been  the  terror  of  the  Chinese,  who  are  suj)poscd  to  have  built 
their  famous  wall  to  defend  themselves  from  their  invasions. 

The  occasion  of  this  irruption  into  Europe  apj)ears  to  have  been 
a  civil  war  among  themselves,  in  which  the  vanquished  |)arty  were 
driven  to  the  South.  The  Goths,  a  comparatively  civilized  people, 
looked  upon  the  Huns  as  monsters  ;  they  fled  before  them.  The 
Visigoths,  who  w^ere  first  attackeil,  entreated  the  Romans  to  re- 
ceive them  into  their  dominions.  \'alens,  who  was  no  politician, 
was  flattered  by  their  request,  and  immediately  i:ranted  them  a  sei- 
den.cnt  in  Thrace.  The  Ostrogoths  next  ajipeared,  and  demanded 
khe  same  protection.  Valens  now  began  to  fear  the  conse(iuences 
jf  harboring  such  a  multitude  of  strangers,  and  he  refused  their 
lemand  ;  but  the  frontiers  of  the  empire  being  ill  defended,  the 
Ostrogoths,  disregarding  his  refusal,  jiassed  forward  without  oppo- 
.-ition,  and  overpowered  Thrace  like  a  deluge.  ^  alens  hasiily  con- 
oJudcd  a  oeace  with  Sapor,  the  Persian,  to  march  lo  the  defence 
*i(  that  province  ;  but  he  had  discharged  the  greati'st  part  of  the 
old  troops,  trusting  that  these  very  invaders  would  be  tlie  defenco 
of  the  emigre.  His  army  was  raw  and  undisciplined  ;  Friiigern, 
king  of  the  Goths,  cut  them  to  pieces  in  the  battle  of  Adrianople, 
and  Valens  himself  perished  in  the  engagement.  These  noriherii 
straiigers  were  now  unresisted.  They  ravaged  Achaia  and  Pan- 
nonia  ;  the  consideral)le  towns  alone  holding  out  against  them,  and 
these  only  because  they  knew  not  the  art  of  be>«ic;:;ing. 

Graiian,  in  this  critical  juncture,  arriving  at  Conjiantinople,  os- 
sinned  Ti.eodosius,  an  able  gcMieral,  for  his  colleague  in  the  em- 
pire, who  was,  ii)  every  sense,  worthy  of  his  dignity.  To  grejit 
courage  and  magnanimity  Theodosius  joined  an  honorable  and  vir- 
tuous disposition  ,  though,  as  a  Christian  emperor,  his  rharacier 
has,  of  course,  been  acpersed  by  Pagan  historians.  He  enacted 
many  excellent  laws.  Ilio  religious  zeal  perhaps  transported  him 
too  far  ;  ceriainly  some  ol  the  laws  which  he  Trametl  against  her- 
etics are  rigorous  in   the  extreme.      (i rattan,  his   colleague,  waj 


524  UNIVERSAL  HISTOny.  BOOK  V 

equally  zealous,  and  yet  more  imprudent.  He  provoked  the  Pa- 
gans liy  persecution  and  the  destruction  of  tlir-ir  temples,  so  that 
he  became,  from  that  cause  alone,  an  object  of  hatred  to  the  great- 
est part  of  his  stibjects. 

Upon  the  death  of  Gratian,  his  infant  son,  Valentinian  11.,  suc- 
ceeded to  the  Western  empire,  which  was,  in  the  meantime,  gov- 
erned by  Theodosius  as  his  guardian.  This  prince,  who  obtained 
and  who  deserved  the  epithet  of  great,  ruled  the  empire  for  eigh- 
teen years  with  consummate  ability.  He  was  at  first  obliged  to 
yield  the  government  of  Britain  and  the  Gauls  to  the  prefect  ol 
Maxinnis,  who  had  obtained  the  absolute  command  of  the  troops 
m  those  provinces,  and  confident  of  his  powers,  had  demanded  a 
share  of  the  empire.  .This  concession  emboldened  Maximus  to 
aiin  at  the  sovereignty  of  the  whole.  He  invaded  Italy,  and  took 
possession  of  Rome,  while  the  young  Valentinian,  with  his  mother 
Justina,  fled  for  refuge  to  Thessalonica.  But  Theodosius  marching 
against  the  usurper,  defeated  him  in  a  decisive  engagement  in  Pan- 
nonia,  and  allowed  him  to  be  massacred  by  the  victorious  troops 
Valentinian  was  thus  restored  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  West  by 
the  arms  of  his  guardian.  But  the  young  prince  soon  after  fell  a 
sacrifice  to  the  treason  of  one  of  his  generals,  Arbogastes  ;  and 
Theodosius,  defeating  Arbogastes,  remained  sole  emperor  of  the 
East  and  West. 

The  character  of  this  prince  was  worthy  of  the  best  ages  of  the 
Roman  state.  The  wisdom  of  the  laws  of  Theodosius  ^.rocured 
him  the  esteem  and  afl^ection  of  his  subjects  ;  the  success  of  his 
arms  kept  in  terror  the  surrounding  barbarians.  His  domestic 
character  was  amiable  and  respectable,  though  sullied  at  times  by 
an  intemperance  of  passion  which  led  him  into  some  acts  of  inhu- 
manity, for  which,  in  his  cool  moments,  he  suffered  the  keenest 
remorse.  Under  a  series  of  princes  like  Theodosius,  the  Roman 
empire  might  have  once  more  regained  its  ancient  dignity  and 
splendor  ;  but  the  weakness  of  its  successors  blasted  all  those 
pleasing  expectations. 

The  reign  of  Theodosius  was  the  era  of  the  downfall  of  the  Pa- 
gan religion  in  the  Roman  empire,  and  the  full  establishment  of 
Christianity.  As  this  great  revolution  in  human  affairs  is  of  the 
utmost  importance,  in  far  more  than  a  mere  political  point  of  view, 
we  shall  consider  it  at  some  length  in  the  succeeding  chapter. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


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